King of Serpents: Chamber of Secrets
by karatemaster101
Summary: Second year is here, brimming with suspense, excitement, mystery, opportunity, and clueless Defense professors meant as a means of comic relief. It is up to Artemis to develop his skills to the fullest in order to defeat the evil looming within Hogwarts. But solving this crime might be difficult for even Artemis, especially when he is the main suspect... COMPLETED: SEQUEL UP
1. Musings of Diagon Alley

**Thanks for all of the lovely reviews guys! **

**And as promised, here is book 2! Complete with all of the mystery, adventure, and dashes of sarcastic Artemis-style humor present in its predecessors, plus lots more!  
**

* * *

"Lovely place. Hasn't changed much even after two years, has it?"

Artemis listened to his father nonchalantly comment on the state of Diagon Alley.

The summer had been quite an eventful one. Artemis had enlisted the help of fairies to rescue his father from Russia, and ever since then, the man had been more cheerful and appreciative of life in general. He also showed less interest in money-making and any sort of illegal financial exploit, showing more concern to the health of his wife and son, instead.

That didn't mean that he had let his sense of self-preservation dull in the least bit, however. On the contrary, his horrifying experiences at the hands of a jealous, vengeful old rival had sharpened his senses (and his sense of humor – every bit as and even a little more sarcastic and morbid as Artemis' own). Artemis Fowl Sr. was now less reckless and more of a chess master, but at least this time, he was one who tried his best to protect all of his pieces.

(Kind of like Artemis in the Transfiguration challenge from the previous school year).

Artemis didn't know if it was simply his happiness at being alive and well, reunited with his family, or if magic had something to do with it. It wasn't as if he could complain. Ever since his father found out that he actually had magic within him – and a great deal of it, too – he had become less distant and formal, and began to behave more warmly.

This was probably what a real, "normal" family felt like, something Artemis was quite thankful for.

Unfortunately, now that his father was determinedly staying on the straight path, it meant that Artemis would have to be more careful.

"During all those years at the hands of Karkaroff, I realized something, Artemis. I realized that money wasn't the most important thing in the world anymore. It gave me a greater appreciation for life. You only live once, and what you learn and who you save is much more important than how much gold you make," his father told him. "From now on, we're going on the straight path. It will give people one less thing to use against us."

(Well, Artemis wouldn't be doing anything illegal – shady, yes – but not illegal – for money anymore…now that he had the Philosopher's Stone.)

"Yes, Father," he had promised.

(But promises were sometimes meant to be broken...)

* * *

Now they were back in London, in Diagon Alley, shopping as a family. Maybe not a regular family, but a whole family – and that was as close as it was going to get, with people like the Fowls.

The city was crowded, due to the fact that most other wizarding families (as well as Muggle families who produced magical children) from all over the country were choosing this time of year to do back-to-school shopping for their children, and at this rate, they were not going to get all of the errands done by the end of the day. Artemis Senior still needed a new wand (his old one had been broken during his capture), and Artemis Junior still needed to get all of his books. Which he had a ridiculously large amount of this year.

"Tell you what," his mother said. "We should split up. I'll go stand in line at Flourish and Blotts, and you can join us later after you get your wand."

"Mother, may I go with Father?" Artemis asked politely. "I would like to meet Mr. Ollivander again. There are some things that I must ask him."

Angeline nodded cheerfully. "Just give me the list – I won't be long."

Artemis dutifully handed it over, and together, he and his father set off towards the old wand shop.

Ollivander's wand shop was just as musty and dark as it had been last year. "Mr. Fowl, long time no see," he croaked as they walked through the door.

"Indeed, Mr. Ollivander. Still around, I see?"

Mr. Ollivander threw back his head and laughed – a dry, rasping sound. "You sound disappointed," he teased, still chuckling. "What can I do for you today?"

"A new wand, if you please," Artemis' father said.

"Applewood and dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches, quite firm," Ollivander recited. "I remember the day you were that old," he said, gesturing to Artemis. "Does it not suit you?"

"Oh, no, every wand chosen suits the wizard," Fowl Senior said. "Let's just say…I've suffered a rather inconvenient mishap, and my original wand has, for lack of better terms, fallen in action."

Ollivander clicked his tongue. "Always a sad story when the life of a good wand ends in such an untimely manner. But no delay, we shall simply have to fit you with another."

It took only a few tries for Artemis' father to find a new match, mainly because he was an old customer and Ollivander already had an idea of what to give him. "Laurel and phoenix feather, twelve and a half inches, quite steadfast." They paid, and were about to leave, but Artemis stopped.

"Mr. Ollivander, I would like to ask you a question," he said.

"Cypress and basilisk scale, thirteen inches, very precise," Ollivander murmured in response. (Artemis did not fail to notice the sudden glance his father shot him when Ollivander mentioned the basilisk scale.)

"Why is wandless magic so much more exhausting for wizards, even though other magical creatures have no need for it?"

Ollivander smiled. "Wands channel magic in a more exact manner than simple, raw power. It is why wizards have one of the most versatile powers on earth compared to that of other creatures. They have the energy within them; they just cannot use it in the same way wizards do."

"But can't a variety of actions be performed even without a wand as well? Young children can do a lot of things before their magic has been tamed," Artemis pointed out.

"Of course, they can, to a certain extent, control it," Ollivander said. "But not completely consciously. Children usually express their magic through emotions and natural instincts, rather than conscious thought. It depends on the nature of the spell. Certain actions are more difficult than others – the most violent forms of magic, when used without a wand, can cause severe exhaustion and even extreme physical harm…"

Ah. So that explained things, then.

Ollivander continued. "…That's why it is inadvisable, young man, if you are attempting to learn on your own."

_Too late, though, Mr. Ollivander. You underestimate me. _Artemis hid the smirk that was crawling onto his face.

"Very well. Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," he said, instead.

As they exited the shop, his father looked at him. "Did Mr. Ollivander say that the core of your wand was a basilisk scale?"

Artemis nodded, unsure where the conversation was leading. His father stopped and looked him in the eye with a piercing stare – it was quite unnerving, because it was almost like staring at his own eyes. And Artemis knew the effect _his_ stares had on people. After what seemed like an eternity, Artemis Fowl Sr. finally relented, and whispered so softly, that even if Diagon Alley had been abandoned, no one would have heard, "There is a dangerous amount of power in you, son. Use it well."

Then, he returned to his normal, jovial demeanor. "We must find your mother, now, there is no use keeping her waiting if we don't want to be on the receiving end of her wrath again." And he quickly walked away, as if he was avoiding the unsaid questions bouncing around in Artemis' mind. And as much as Artemis tried to decipher his father's face, he could not. Artemis was not used to being in the dark about others' thoughts and emotions – reading people was something he was naturally talented at doing, and one of his few forms of recreation.

_What was that all about? _Artemis thought.

He could have sworn he heard a little voice in his head, saying, _Oh, you'll see._

Artemis frowned and shoved the annoying little voice into a box within his memory space, ignoring its vain attempts to break free and resurface. He wasn't going to take any attitude or orders from some shred of stray thoughts.

* * *

The street in front of Flourish and Blotts was swarming with people. "Why are there so many people today?" Artemis thought aloud irritably.

"Don't you know?" a teenage girl, slightly older than him, squealed. "Gilderoy Lockhart's having a book signing today!" And she left to join the rowdy mob.

Gilderoy Lockhart? Artemis scanned the crowd, and sure enough, there was a fair-haired man in some extremely outlandishly colored, extravagantly styled robes in the midst of it all. Artemis wanted to throw up – as an advocate of conservative fashions, he felt that no self-respectable wizard would even be caught dead wearing that shade of lavender. Immediately, Artemis lost all potential respect for that man.

_That was frightening_, Artemis thought, _and considering what I've been through the past year and summer alone, that means a lot. _

The man began bragging loudly, advertising his various books (all with the most atrocious titles – there could be nothing more cliché than alliteration – _Travel with Trolls_, honestly!) and boasting of his quite useless titles. As if winning "Most Charming Smile" in _Witch Weekly_ was the ultimate decider for the greatest wizard of all time. "Charming Smile", indeed – that man's cheeky grin was nothing compared to his famous smirk. Vampire smiles could get more people to do what you wanted.

Oh, and of course, Harry Potter's famous face was in the crowd. The poor boy could not escape the lecherous man's grasp. Artemis had long drowned out Lockhart's annoying voice – it was just that bad, almost as bad as Professor Binns' drone and Quirrell's fake stutter – but from the desperate expression on Potter's face, he wanted nothing more than to escape the presence of the man that was simply using his fame to elevate his own. Artemis felt utmost sympathy for him – had he been in Potter's spot, by now, he probably would have surrendered his typically calm and collected demeanor to his nasty temper and given the man a good hex in front of all of the cameras.

All things holy knew Gilderoy Lockhart would have deserved it.

Eventually the boy managed to slink away, extremely defeated and disgruntled.

"Now, where did your mother go?" Artemis' father asked, doing his best to change the topic. The man was purposely doing a lousy job of trying to hide his disgust at the scene that just took place. Just in time, Angeline's face appeared in the door of Flourish and Blotts, and waved for them to come over.

Artemis was feeling extremely claustrophobic as he and his father tried to weave their way through the pandemonium. It was a wonder that his hair had not ended up chaotic like Potter's by the time they reached their intended destination. Artemis frowned and flicked some dust off his otherwise immaculate blazer sleeve, which he had somehow gained from swimming through the sea of people, and began to inspect his perfectly shined shoes for any scuffs in a rather obsessive-compulsive manner.

"You wouldn't believe the trouble I had to go through just to get all of these books!" his mother bawled once they got within speaking distance. Which was not far at all, considering the chaos outside. "Look out there! An entire line of educated women reduced to snivelling, dribbling wrecks over the most awful man in the world!"

Artemis was glad that his mother was intelligent enough to not be a member of that crowd. "Thank Merlin that _some_ people still have common sense within them."

"There, there, Angeline," his father soothed. "The worst is over – now let us leave before we are trampled by that many-headed, ferocious monster called a _crowd_."

Her nose went in the air, and she pursed her lips disdainfully at the picture of Lockhart on the back cover. She picked the book up and tossed it into the bag. "Some people have no self-respect or decency at all," she sniffed, referring to the flirtatious wink that the photograph had given her.

They were just about to leave when Artemis heard, "Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter? Can't even go into a book shop without making the front page."

Turning his head to the source of the very familiar voice, and what a surprise – Draco Malfoy. Apparently a summer of being under house arrest by his father had put him in a mood bad enough to revert to his bullying.

"Leave him alone, he didn't want it!" a little girl protested. Red hair and freckles – was it another Weasley? Evidently so, for dear Ronald was not too far behind.

"Potter, you've got a girlfriend!" Malfoy sang. How immature. Artemis would have expected better behavior from a fellow Slytherin.

This drew the attention of Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, who came sauntering over to Potter's defense. "You again. Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, huh?" Weasley snapped.

"Not as surprised as I am to see _you_ in a shop," Draco retorted. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all these," he said, gesturing to the many books that they were carrying.

Ronald, red in the face, leapt at him, but Hermione and Harry held him back. Ronald's little sister (assumedly) was nearly in tears by now. At that point, two older men showed up to join the dispute. Artemis recognized one as Draco's father – the tall blonde man with the stony face that he had seen his first time on the Hogwarts Express. He assumed that the other man – redheaded, freckled, and lanky like his son, was the patriarch of the Weasley clan.

"Someone you know, Artemis?" his father asked.

"Unfortunately," Artemis replied.

He glanced back over to the slowly building ruckus. The two men were glaring at each other by now.

"Arthur _Weasley_," Mr. Malfoy purred, drawing out the last name derogatorily.

"Lucius," the other returned, in the same, hateful manner.

"Been keeping you busy at the Ministry – but they don't seem to be paying you well for it. What's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard, then?" He pulled a book out of the girl's cauldron – it was tattered and used and obviously secondhand – and examined it.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Mr. Weasley growled. The two men continued to trade insults. While they were distracted, Artemis made his way over to the other children, standing off to the side and observing the new spectacle that was taking place between the two adults. It could have resembled a sort of fighting match, like those mindless wrestling shows Juliet always liked to watch, with supporters and spectators cheering for each side.

"Artemis!" his mother called, but he ignored her.

"What was that all about?" he asked, confronting Draco. "I thought you were getting better."

Draco shrugged uncomfortably and gestured to his father, who was now arguing loudly with Mr. Weasley, with an apologetic wince.

Artemis nodded, and understood. Still, "You don't have to start riots just to look good in front of him," he muttered.

"What else should I do? I just ran into Potter, a Weasley, and a Mud – Muggle-born. He would be bound to observe my reaction," Draco sighed. "I had to do _something _to show that he could take an eye off me and trust that I wouldn't go off and 'fraternize with the enemy' or some other phrase resembling that statement. You spend an entire summer with him breathing down your neck and see how well you do." He looked around, and seemed relieved that the people just mentioned were preoccupied with the escalating conflict.

Artemis sighed. He was about to give more advice to his friend, when a loud crash sounded behind him. Artemis jumped around just in time to see Mr. Weasley tackle Mr. Malfoy to the ground. Good lord. Now even the supposedly example-setting adults were acting like immature children. What was this world coming to? Artemis stole a glance at Draco, who seemed uncertain of what his response to the indignity should be.

Artemis' father appeared behind him, grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him away from the scuffle. "Stand back, Artemis; you could get hurt." Once they got away from hearing distance, when the others were distracted with the fight in the background, his father lifted his nose and hissed, half-jokingly, half-condescendingly, "Not that I expected any less from a man like _Malfoy_."

"His son's not that bad, though…" Artemis said, in wary defense of his friend. "Draco grew up with his father's prejudiced influences, but he hasn't been irreversibly molded in that injustice yet. Of course he's afraid of his father's disapproval, but he still manages to behave decently and maturely in front of 'inferior' people when his father's not looking. It's not my place to force him to rebel, but I believe in time he'll choose to become completely independent, like me."

His father looked from Draco to Lucius Malfoy, and then back at Artemis, and breathed in deeply. Artemis Sr.'s eyes fluttered shut. He seemed to look guilty about something. Finally, he relented, and muttered, "I suppose you're right."

Before any major activity could ensue, much to Artemis' disappointment, Hagrid, the gamekeeper, had appeared and pulled the two men apart. Artemis was amused to see the crisp face of Lucius Malfoy disheveled and bloodied. The man stood up angrily and brushed himself off, furiously straightening his robes and fixing his tousled hair.

His father began snickering. "And it's one to zero, on Weasley." (This earned him a light slap from his wife.)

Lucius whipped around, glaring. "You," he hissed.

Artemis watched his father trade the banter. "Me," Artemis Sr. said, lazily lifting an eyebrow. Artemis could see where he had inherited many of his own behavioral traits.

"Thought you were long gone, Fowl," the other sneered.

"I suppose you were wrong, as usual, then," Artemis Senior retorted, enjoying himself very much. Artemis felt his respect for his father grow. Great minds think alike.

"Shut up, blood traitor."

"Touchy, aren't we?"

Lucius Malfoy's face contorted into an ugly scowl. He opened his mouth, likely for another failed insult, but instead, wisely decided to shut it, wrathfully turning back onto the Weasleys. "Here girl," he snarled at the latest Weasley, "Take it – it's the best your father can give you." He thrust the textbook back into the cauldron and swept around arrogantly. "Come, Draco." He pushed himself away from the group and dragged his son after him. Draco stole another glance back at Artemis, and followed his father nervously, as if expecting to be struck at any moment.

The Fowls watched them leave. His father's humored attitude had been replaced with one of absolute contempt. "Did you find him as revolting as I did?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Only because you keep egging him on," Angeline chastised. "I know it's in your nature to tease him, but can't we ever just leave him alone for once?"

Artemis Senior sighed. "Fine. Only for you, Angeline. Next time we run into each other, which is hopefully never, I'll hold my tongue."

Artemis' mother sighed. "I suppose we should leave before things get more awkward. Let's go home, Artemis."

Artemis followed his parents out of the bookstore. But he wasn't really paying attention to where he was going – rather, he was looking at the ragged, dog-eared textbook that Lucius Malfoy had returned to the Weasley girl. It seemed slightly thicker than it was before…

This year was going to be another interesting year, wasn't it?

* * *

**A/N: Did anyone get the Russell Howard reference? It's from one of his _Good News_ episodes when he was talking about the cute but useless animals.**


	2. An Excess of Egotism

_September 1st _

"Have a great year, darling!" his mother called, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Happy birthday, and don't forget to write!"

"I won't, mother. I promise."

His father just regarded him carefully. The man reached over and squeezed his shoulder. Going down on his knee, he looked Artemis in the eye, and whispered, "Promise me, Artemis, that you'll be very careful. I have a bad feeling that something is going to happen."

"I promise, Father." _Of course something is going to happen…Harry Potter is here. Something always happens to that kid._

His father stared at him some more, and then nodded and smiled, somewhat satisfied, but still holding some remnants of worry in his eyes all the same. "All right, son. Go to Hogwarts and make me proud, all right?"

"Father, they already fear my intellect from last year," Artemis joked. "That is about as good as it gets."

To his relief, his father laughed.

"I can imagine."

* * *

Artemis Fowl Senior watched as the Hogwarts Express carried his son away.

The boy had changed so much during the two years that he had been gone. He was quite formal and independent, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but the fact that he had been forced to grow up and mature so quickly wasn't a very good thing, either. Or maybe he had always been like that, but he never noticed. Mr. Fowl felt rather guilty – he loved his son, but he couldn't help but feel that he had neglected the boy in all those years that he had thought the child to be a Squib.

He had been quite shocked when he found out, of course. Then again, perhaps he shouldn't have been, given that his son had rescued him from Karkaroff's forces, of all people. The boy had reassured him that growing up as a Muggle was not too bad, because he now had the advantage of technology on his side, but still…the guilt was there.

And he had poisoned the child with his love of gold, as well. He could have been so much greater – as a scientist, or a teacher, or an inventor. But no, he had turned the boy into a thief, and some private investigation showed that he had broken the records of all the previous Fowls. In fact, he had probably infiltrated more bank accounts than the rest of his ancestors...combined. (Of course, that was mostly because he had plenty of other Muggle accounts to work with as well.) He wasn't even of age yet! His intelligence and deviousness was frightening, and it didn't help that he was so powerful, too.

Artemis Senior honestly hoped that his son wouldn't get into too much trouble. If he tried, maybe he could reverse the effects of growing up in a criminal family and turn him into a moral, contributing citizen. He only hoped that he could still steer the kid away to a path where his talents could be put to greater use. There was nothing wrong with having a darker side, of course; it ran in both sides of the family. But how he used that darker side was the important thing.

In any event, he should at least keep one secret about the kid's ancestry…

* * *

"Hey, Artemis! What's up?" Blaise said cheerfully as Artemis slid into the compartment.

Artemis smiled. After so much seriousness from the summer, he could do with a bit of his friend's chipper and exciting personality.

"Not Gilderoy Lockhart's popularity among the Slytherin boys, I hope," he responded sarcastically, though in good-natured jest.

Blaise guffawed. "I know, right? Can you believe that Professor Dumbledore actually hired him as our new Defense teacher? He must have been pretty desperate; obviously, no one else except for Lockhart was stupid enough to take on the job."

"I don't know," Theodore said. "He's done a lot in his books. Hasn't the greatest personality, but at least he should be better than Quirrell, right? I mean, all the stuff he did sounds a bit...well, flamboyant...but there should be at least some basis in fact..."

"What do you think is worse? An annoyingly timid guy with no ability or an even more annoyingly obnoxious guy with some ability?" Blaise asked, turning to Artemis.

Actually, Quirrell _did_ have ability…just for the entirely wrong reasons. "I do not care, if we came out of the class learning something," Artemis said. "Though, considering this man's works…I would not place too much hope in him."

"What do you mean?" Theodore asked.

"Well, look at his story on how he got rid of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf, for example. He claims to have used a Homorphus Charm to return the werewolf to his human state. That's utter rubbish," Artemis snorted. "Any person with half a brain knows that there's no such thing as a 'Homorphus Charm,' first of all, and even if there were, it wouldn't work on werewolves. A simple charm wouldn't work on a werewolf, because the affliction isn't merely based in transfiguration, but also biological infection...the combination of magic and werewolf DNA in your blood, as well as lunar energy from the full moon once each month, is what causes the transformation, not..."

His friends stared at him blankly, having lost him from the time when he had begun talking about DNA. Obviously, as pure-blood wizards, none of these guys knew anything about Muggle science. A bit of a loss, really.

Artemis cleared his throat. "What I'm trying to say is, he's going at it in an entirely incorrect fashion. Lycanthropy can't be cured by a mere charm. That's like trying to fix a broken wand with Spellotape. The closest spell in existence to his so-called 'Homorphus Charm' is the one reversing an Animagus form, which is used to force Animagi out of their transfigured state - and it works because as an Animagus, the form change is completely voluntary and nothing _but_ Transfiguration. Again, a completely different thing than a werewolf transformation."

"I bet that if one of his books are a total lie, the rest are probably too!" Blaise said. "I knew he was a total fraud."

"I could tell he was a queer even without reading the book," Draco sneered. "He pays attention to his hair too much for a normal wizard, if you ask me."

Theodore giggled at that last statement. "Poor Professor Snape. He's been wanting the Defense post for ages."

"Maybe it's best if Professor Snape remains the Potions teacher. He's the best, no doubt about it. Besides, the DADA position is cursed – and we can't afford to lose Professor Snape." Blaise tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Artemis perked up. _That _was interesting. He hadn't heard that story before. "What do you mean, the position is cursed?"

Draco looked surprised. "Don't you know, Artemis? For the past few decades, no person has ever been able to keep the post for longer than a year. Something always happens, and they either die or have to resign."

Artemis bristled. "Well, that's ridiculous. How is anyone supposed to get a decent education, then? We had a stuttering rat for the first year and now we've got a bleeding frog. They should just give us a free period – I could learn more on my own."

"Learn on our own? You know, Artemis, that's not such a bad idea," Theodore said excitedly. "We can form our own secret Defense Club and teach each other stuff – you know, like knowledge and practical application. Maybe some dueling. It would be a great way to learn! I've always wanted to have some sort of secret club…that would be kind of cool…"

"Merlin knows we'd learn more that way than from the blundering buffoons that they try to pass off as instructors each year," Blaise Zabini muttered.

"If we're going to do all that, though, we'd have to get permission and an actual location," Artemis pointed out. The idea seemed pretty good – he had no doubt that his fellow Slytherins were more than capable of looking up some…useful extracurricular information…on their own. "Imagine if Professor McGonagall walked into some random empty classroom and saw us holding one another at wand-point."

Blaise looked horrified. "I'd rather not think about that, thanks. I've already had one detention with that witch, and I don't have any intention of serving another one with her ever again."

"She's not so bad, Blaise," Theodore said. "A bit strict, maybe, but she's fair, and we learn a lot from her. More than from someone like - oh, I don't know - Professor Binns, let's say."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Can we come back to the topic of our club?"

Artemis rested his chin on his hand and looked out the window. "The problem is, if we take it up to Professor Dumbledore, he'd probably make us share the idea with the rest of the school and include _everybody_, so that all of the other Houses will have equal opportunity. Partially because he's the Headmaster, and he has to be fair with everybody, and partially because he is wary of a small group of 'elite' students like us getting some sort of unfair advantage over the others."

"What's the problem with that?" Theodore asked.

Artemis explained, "My problem with that is, when too many people are involved in one class, learning quickly gets difficult. Not to mention, a lot of people probably won't approve of some of the more advanced things that I want to learn. And if an outside force attempts to track our advancement and curb us just because one person thinks we're going too far or learning things that we shouldn't be learning because 'power could corrupt our young, inexperienced minds' there's really no point in having a secret club, like you want, Theodore."

"We could just ask Professor Snape to use the dungeons during his free periods," Draco suggested. "He's good at keeping secrets for the Slytherins, and since he wants to be the Defense teacher so bad, I'm sure he won't mind giving as a few tips, too. He'll probably like being a private tutor better than an actual teacher, anyway – less 'dunderheads to put up with,' in his words."

"What do you know, Drake, that's actually pretty smart," Blaise laughed.

"Don't call me that," Draco muttered, though he secretly looked pleased at the compliment.

"So, do we have a plan, then?" Theodore asked.

It was a unanimous agreement.

* * *

They left the train and headed to the carriages for the older students. "What's driving them?" Blaise asked.

"Threstrals," Draco explained. "They're invisible, though, unless you've seen someone die."

"Can you see them?" Artemis asked curiously.

Draco looked uncomfortable. "Yeah. I was at my grandfather's deathbed when he died of dragon pox. I was really young, though, so I didn't know him that well."

They climbed into an empty carriage along with some random Ravenclaw boys, who were all eyeing Artemis warily. After all, this was the kid who had put all of their examination scores to shame…and he didn't even spend nine hours a day studying in the library on top of regular classes.

Artemis chose to simply sit there with his unnerving grin, and they stayed silent.

* * *

Arriving in the Great Hall, they looked around. "Well, we're veterans now," Blaise said. "Time to terrify some ickle firsties!"

"Blaise, that's Peeves' job," Artemis reproached, rolling his eyes.

"Killjoy," Blaise muttered.

"Hey, I don't see Potter," Theodore said, trying very hard to ignore the ghost of the Bloody Baron, who had chosen him as the unlucky one to float right next to during the feast this year.

"You're right, he's missing," Blaise acknowledged. "Weasley, too."

"Which one?" Draco snickered. Sure enough, a quick glance at the Gryffindor table displayed an invasion of children from the redheaded clan - the oldest, a loud, obnoxious, and arrogant Prefect, the infamous prankster twins, and the little girl from the bookstore standing with the group of first-years, whose name Artemis hadn't learned yet. But there was no Ronald. Or Harry Potter.

Theodore ignored him and pointed out, "Hey, Professor Snape is gone, too."

"Wonder where he is?" Theodore murmured.

"I wouldn't be too concerned," Artemis said. "Come to think of it, I think that he is gone because Potter and Weasley are."

Their little discussion was interrupted when Professor Dumbledore stood, clapping his hands. "May I have your attention, please? I have an announcement to make –"

At that moment, the Weasley twins interrupted him.

"ANNOUNCEMENTS, ANNOUNCEMENTS, _ANNOUNCEMENTS!_

A terrible death to die, a terrible death to die,

A terrible death to talk to death, a terrible death to die!

_ANNOUNCEMENTS, HAH!_

_ANNOUNCEMENTS, HAH!_"

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips primly, and looked like she wanted to say something. Upon second thought, however, as she looked around at the other teachers and realized that Professor Snape was not there to make a snide remark once again about her students' typically boisterous "Gryffindor" behavior, remained silent. Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, quite amused. Artemis rolled his eyes.

"Thank you for the lovely evening entertainment, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley. Now, before we begin this year's Sorting, I would like to introduce a new member of this year's faculty. Please welcome Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor."

Immediately, there were gasps, giggles, and the occasional shriek of delight (all of them belonging to the opposite gender, Artemis noted) filling the Great Hall. Artemis also noted with great amusement that on the other end of the spectrum, all of the boys seemed rather miffed, save for one or two rather dull souls who actually fell for their Defense teacher's lies. That did not include Crabbe and Goyle, who were staring at their plates dully.

Lockhart began making his welcoming speech. Artemis sniffed derogatorily, and immediately implemented his prodigal skill…of selective deafness. Most of the boys in the Great Hall, he noticed with amusement, were also taking his example. Even without his ears functioning, he knew what Lockhart was talking about: himself, himself, his new book, himself, his amazing skills, himself, his winning streak for _Witch Weekly's _"Most Charming Smile" award, himself, his beautiful wardrobe and hair, himself, himself, and oh, how surprising…himself.

He finally stopped his bragging, and Blaise whispered, "Is it over? Thank Merlin, I thought I was going to die of an overdose of Lockhart's Extraordinary Earache-Inducing Poison." Several people, who had heard him, were sniggering.

Professor Flitwick, who had heard them, giggled quietly (this went unnoticed by the ever self-absorbed Lockhart) and even the strict Professor McGonagall smiled slightly before unrolling the scroll and starting the Sorting. This song was new, although it still conveyed the same message about the virtues of each and every house – the brave Gryffindors, the intelligent Ravenclaws, the hardworking Hufflepuffs, and the cunning Slytherins. Obviously, that Hat had way too much free time…then again, he supposed that it would be quite boring if they had to listen to the same song every single year.

**S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S**

_A thousand years ago, there lived_

_Four sorcerers of great fame;_

_Whose powers were so vast that_

_Today we still know their names._

'_Twas Gryffindor, the strong and brave,_

_And Ravenclaw, the wise,_

_And Hufflepuff, the sweet and kind,_

_And Slytherin, the sly. _

_**S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S**_

_These four friends spoke one day,_

_And Ravenclaw asked the rest,_

"_We all are mages of great power,_

_Perhaps the very best;_

_But we must give back our gifts in turn_

_And pass our knowledge on –_

_How will we do so when_

_We all are dead and gone?"_

_**S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S**_

_And so they all hatched a plan_

_To make a special school_

_And educate young sorcerers _

_Of magic and its rules._

_And each taught students who_

_Had virtues they each deemed_

_To be worthy of their Houses_

_And fulfilling of their dreams._

_**S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S**_

_Gryffindor thus took those_

_Courageous just like him,_

_While Slytherin would choose students_

_With ambitious and clever whims._

_And Ravenclaw would pick _

_The intelligent and the smart,_

_And Hufflepuff advised her lot to_

_Work hard and have a good heart._

_**S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S**_

_And though our dear Founders_

_Today have all passed on,_

_Their legacy remains alive_

_In you, me, and everyone._

_Your mind has already chosen_

_Your future path is set – _

_I'm just here to tell you_

_Whose House you belong in best!_

_**S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S**_

Artemis clapped politely with the rest of the school, and got bored soon after "Aarons, Michael" was dispatched to Ravenclaw. He remembered "Greengrass, Astoria" being sorted into Slytherin, along with a few others, but did not pay much attention otherwise. Despite his normal emphasis on careful observation, Artemis simply was not a people person, and would rather amuse himself with guessing what House each new student would go to before the Sorting Hat did rather than remembering all of their names (or even who they _were_, for that matter).

It both pleased and disappointed him when the Sorting ended with only one error on his part – the Sorting Hat had called some girl named "Lovegood, Luna" a Ravenclaw. Artemis, on the other hand, had been ready to send her to Hufflepuff, supposedly the House of the kind, loyal, and hardworking, but in reality the House where you sent all the rest of the kids who really didn't belong anywhere else. She looked like she was constantly walking in a self-constructed dream world that no one except for her would understand. Artemis seriously thought that this girl could walk straight into a wall and not even notice.

Hmm. Maybe she was smarter than she looked, and her silly expression was just an act, clever enough for people to underestimate her intellectual ability but not cunning or cutting enough to warrant her a place in Slytherin. Or, more realistically, she was just one of those people who was naturally book-smart but not very street-smart, and always had her head in the clouds but never concerned herself with the actual happenings of common life.

They finally finished the Sorting when "Weasley, Ginevra" was sent to Gryffindor like the rest of her brothers. Upon reflection, his first-year self had been right: the Sorting Ceremony _was _boring if you weren't one of the first-years getting Sorted.

Halfway through, Professor Dumbledore had left his dais, and eventually McGonagall had to follow. The teachers remaining at the head table were looking extremely irritated, especially those sitting next to Lockhart.

"I bet Potter and Weasley _did_ run into trouble. They always do," Draco muttered. "And there's Professor Dumbledore and their Head of House, McGonagall, going off to save their hides, _again_. Ten Galleons those two knuckleheads will get away with minimal punishment for whatever the heck they did this time."

They finished the feast and traipsed off to their dormitories.

* * *

Upon reaching the dungeons, the main news, announced by a returning Prefect was, "Did you hear? Potter and Weasley got caught flying a _car_ to school!"

Immediately, the common room was filled with a cacophony of excited babble.

"You're not serious?"

"As in those stupid Muggle things?"

"I hope he gets expelled!" someone said with relish.

"You know, of all the stupid things Potter has done, this has got to be the worst," Pansy Parkinson sniffed.

"Enough." Their head of house swept into the room like an overgrown bat, towering above them all (yes, he even towered over a few of the seventh-year students who were physically taller than him). From his facial expression, Artemis thought it better to get out of his way, for fear of suffering his wrath. (He had had plenty of experience with his mother – he wasn't going to be stupid and see if he could endure any more fury).

"What's the verdict, Professor?" one of the Prefects asked timidly, clearly sharing Artemis' viewpoint on not provoking their already ill-tempered Professor any further.

"Potter stays in school," the man growled contemptuously. "And not even a point taken off Gryffindor House. The only 'punishment' was to miss the welcoming feast."

Cries of indignation and disappointment rose among the Slytherins.

"What?" Marcus Flint whined. "I thought for sure he'd have to leave. Then, we'd actually have a clear shot at Quidditch Cup this year. It's not as if Potter's going to be unconscious in the Hospital Wing this time."

"Potter got to miss the welcoming feast? That's more like a reward," Draco whispered to Artemis. "He didn't have to listen to Lockhart go on about why everyone should love him so much." Artemis smirked.

"Why?" was the general question to the ridiculously light punishment.

"The Headmaster and his Head of House intervened before I could assign anything that the brat deserved," Professor Snape said coldly. "Their excuse was that the 'crime' was committed outside of school hours and grounds, and therefore the teachers and staff should have no jurisdiction over the discipline of the two students. A gross example of favoritism for the Gryffindors - and yet people only complain about _me_ being 'biased'. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go to my quarters to prepare for tomorrow – it will definitely be hell." Artemis understood that their Head of House detested Lockhart the most out of all the teachers.

As it turned out, the next day _was _hell, though not necessarily for them.

* * *

**A/N: The Sorting Hat's poem isn't canon; it's just something I made up. Since Harry missed the welcoming feast in his second and third year, we didn't get to hear the Sorting Song, so I thought I would just come up with something since this chapter was focusing on Artemis instead. Not my best work of poetry, but it gets the point across – there isn't much else you can do with a poem that has to involve the four Houses of Hogwarts and their stereotypes.**

**I haven't really noticed this before, but I think I subconsciously based Theodore Nott off a combination of Simon from _Lord of the Flies _and Benvolio from _Romeo and Juliet_. After all, in a group of "evil" kids, there has to be some nice and polite misfit. And Blaise could be Mercutio.**

**On another note, to give you guys something to look forward to, next chapter shows how our favorite four Slytherin boys react when they meet Lockhart for the first time, and just exactly how they deal with him. And I guarantee you, it won't be pretty...for Lockhart. ;)  
**


	3. Revenge of the Pixies

**Lockhart may have bitten off more than he could chew by accepting Artemis Fowl as his student...then again, he can't chew most things. :)  
**

* * *

_First morning of school_

They were eating their breakfast and minding their own business – really! All right, so there was a lot of gossip and noses poking into others' business where they don't belong, but for the most part, minding their own business, when a shrill scream split the air. Artemis was forcibly reminded of his summer, when he had run off to save his father and received an earful from his mother for foolishly risking his life when he returned.

In any event, natural human reaction prompted the entire Great Hall to point their heads towards the source of the disturbance - a certain little red envelope by the Gryffindor table.

"What's going on?" he asked,

"Weasley's got a Howler!" Draco chortled. "Free breakfast entertainment – it can't get any better than this!"

"Are you serious? Aw, man, he definitely deserved that for the car. Hold on to your seats, gentlemen, we're in for a ride!" Blaise agreed. Despite his somewhat less strained relationships with the Gryffindors, Artemis could not help but snicker at his hapless acquaintances' plight.

All heads snapped to the Gryffindor table, and sure enough, there was Weasley, his face a lovely shade of beet red, rivaling that of his hair. The screaming was coming from the envelope that he had just received – probably from his mother.

"…I GOT THE LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT; I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME; HE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS; YOU AND HARRY COULD HAVE DIED; I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED…"

The Slytherin table was extremely pleased that some justice had been done, for everyone was sniggering. In fact, most of the Great Hall was laughing. Some of the Gryffindors looked on in sympathy; Granger, on the contrary side, looked rather gratified (as if she thought that her two friends deserved the mortification).

"You have to feel bad for him, though," Theodore said, once the pandemonium had died down and everyone returned to their usual activity. "Imagine if you were in his place – it'd be mortifying."

"Well, I'll make sure not to do something stupid like flying a car to school, then," Blaise said, feeling no sympathy, like every other Slytherin who wasn't Theodore.

Theodore shifted uncomfortably, and changed the topic. "What do you have on your schedule?"

Blaise pulled out the little piece of parchment and traced his fingers down the little square boxes, trying to find their House, year, and time for their classes. "La, la, la, la…Damn! We've got Defense with Lockhart first!"

"At least it's not with the Gryffindors," Draco muttered, sulking.

* * *

As expected, Lockhart was the biggest, for lack of better vocabulary that Artemis' steaming mind could come up with, _prat_ that he had ever met. And when Artemis Fowl the Second, child genius extraordinaire, sinks to the level of using derogatory, four-letter insults in daily, uneducated, _slang_ vocabulary…you know that it's really bad.

He came waltzing into the classroom in a flurry of rainbows and sparkles the most hideous robes Artemis had seen – even worse than the flamboyant lavender color from the book-signing in Diagon Alley. These ones were, instead, a bright shade of lilac. _Lilac! _Seriously! Who, in their right mind, would wear robes of _lilac_? Artemis thought that Lockhart could take some fashion tips from Professor Snape – basically, toning everything down by one-hundred-percent and wearing nothing but black. It would certainly help Artemis' burning eyes.

The only good thing that could come out of this class was more inter-House unity, derived from a mutual hate from everyone who had half a brain in this school. Although, observing many other students' reactions to the famous man, Artemis was beginning to doubt the future of their generation.

"Ugh," he heard Blaise mutter, and to put it simply, he had to agree.

Artemis, Draco, Theodore, and Blaise chose to sit at the table closest to the door of the classroom, and, quite conveniently, also the furthest table away from the teacher's desk at the front. It would only get worse from here. Only 59 minutes and 24 more seconds of torture to go. Artemis braced himself for the agony that was sure to come.

His fears were soon realized when Lockhart began the lesson. Evidently, by his opening speech, which was just an even longer and more disgusting version of the speech he had given last night to the entire school in the Great Hall, this man had nothing in his brain whatsoever. Artemis could clearly tell that they were going to be learning nothing even remotely defense-based in the next nine months, unless you counted frightening off your opponents with a revolting fashion sense and personality.

The class started off with a fifty-four question quiz on what they had learned so far after reading his books. Artemis had only read the first book, which was the one on werewolves (to great disgust, he might add – what a complete and utter _fraud_). Really, he only read he first book because he had been hoping that Lockhart was a better wizard and writer than he was a person - a hope which had been cruelly shattered as soon as he had wasted half an hour reading that piece of kindling substitute.

Still, if this quiz had something defense based, Artemis supposed that he would do reasonably well. And if it was something based on Lockhart's experiences, he supposed that he could easily make up something outrageous enough to please the living piece of scum. And if things got really bad, he could just convince one of the girls to do his test for him...but really, Artemis supposed that he wouldn't have too much of a problem...

Or maybe not. He looked at the first page.

**S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S**

**1) What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?**

**S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S**

Artemis groaned. He might just decide to be sick and skip the class. It wouldn't be a lie.

He scanned the rest of the "little quiz" that actually ran three pages. Nothing about Defense. Not one single question. It wasn't even remotely academic. All about…oh, what a surprise, himself. There was not a single question that did not have the words "Gilderoy Lockhart" somewhere in there. Would the torture never cease? Artemis could only imagine how awful it would be for all the teachers who had to spend their spare time in meetings with a man who would probably only pretentiously steamroll over their actually _good_ ideas and attempt to take over _their _specialized jobs with his nonexistent skills.

Artemis looked around the room. Many of the girls seemed to be doing fine (even the "well-raised" Slytherin girls seemed unable to resist his apparent "charm"), while the male population, like he, were either extremely sick or trying to hold back raucous laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the class. Or, in the case of Crabbe and Goyle, sitting around dully like two large, overstuffed sacks of potatoes.

Stealing a glance at Blaise's paper, Artemis looked at what his friend had wrote.

**S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S**

**1) What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?**

_I don't know; something completely stupid like what he's wearing now._

**2) What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?**

_To die as he lived, draped in the arms of another man._

**3) What has Gilderoy Lockhart considered to be his greatest achievement up to date?**

_Having stayed alive for so long, the dunderhead. Professor Snape taught me that word. It's okay, though. I doubt that Lockhart even knows what that means._

**4) What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite food?  
**

_Squashed flies. I know because he eats them all the time. It's why his brain is so full of them._

**5) Gilderoy Lockhart has always wanted to market his own range of what?**

_Bottled insanity and various styles of stupidity._**  
**

**6) What is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest attribute?  
**

_His overbearing arrogance. Duh. Anyone with half a brain can see that._**  
**

**7) What did Gilderoy Lockhart once receive as a gift from an Egyptian lord for his charming smile?  
**

_A gaydar._**  
**

**8) What are the color of Gilderoy Lockhart's eyes?**_  
_

_Red. BLOOD RED. LIKE THE DEVIL HIMSELF._

**9) What is the most dangerous magical creature Gilderoy Lockhart has ever handled?  
**

_A Flobberworm.  
_

**10) Gilderoy Lockhart is always constantly being followed by what?  
**

_Rainbows, sparkles, unicorns, and vomiting wizards._**  
**

**11) What is Gilderoy Lockhart's one weakness?  
**

_He is allergic to intelligence. That's why he should leave this classroom right away, before something bad happens._**  
**

**12) What has Gilderoy Lockhart gotten rid of by simply smiling?  
**

_Me. And all other prospective students. Oh no...he's smiling right now...everyone run for your lives before you die of cheesiness!...ARRRRGGHHH he's got me help I'm dying -_**  
**

**13) What does Gilderoy Lockhart think about his celebrity status?**_  
_

_He's a celebrity? I thought he was an escapee from St. Mungo's Branch Hospital for Ineptitude...  
_

**14) What famous spell can Gilderoy Lockhart wandlessly, nonverbally, and effortlessly cast over anyone?**_  
_

_Disgust. Pure, blatant disgust. _**  
**

**15) When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday and what would be his ideal gift?**

_Do I look like I give a rat's ass?_

**S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S**

What a typical answer from Blaise. Artemis tried to retain his natural temperament and ultimately failed. He joined the crowd and began snickering obnoxiously and uncontrollably. Even if he tried, he couldn't come up with insults that awfully immature and yet so fittingly hilarious. That was Blaise's job.

Blaise noticed him laughing and waggled his eyebrows, brandishing his paper triumphantly. "YOLO."

Artemis rolled his eyes. "Where did you learn that phrase?"

Blaise shrugged. "Umm...I don't know?..."

"You do realize that phrase was born from the recesses of Muggle internet phenomena, by purposeless beings looking for paper-thin excuses for their own idiocy, right?" Artemis pointed out.

"Whatever..." Blaise said.

Out of curiosity and a sheer lack of anything better to do, Artemis decided to look at his other friends' papers. They were not as entertaining as Blaise's answers, but Artemis had to admit, they were good enough retorts against Lockhart.

Theodore Nott was currently daydreaming and doodling cartoons and caricatures of his friends all over the sheets of paper, (he had labeled one of his dragons "Draco" and a fire "Blaise", to Artemis' delight, and a bird "Fowl", to his dismay), the questions blank and forgotten. Currently he was drawing Lockhart being attacked by angry elves with...what were those?

"Theodore, what are those elves holding?" Artemis asked, frowning.

"Oh, those? They're a weapon thing that I made up. I figured since elves didn't have wands, they could use these thingies instead. They shoot beams like wands, but instead of saying an incantation like wizards you just press this button. I'm going to call them Neutrinos! That sounds like a cool name, doesn't it?" Theodore said nonchalantly, completely oblivious to Artemis' growing discomfort.

Artemis decided to shut his mouth and turn away slowly.

Theodore kept humming and drawing happily.

Artemis ignored him.

Theodore made no reaction.

Artemis decided to divert his attention to Draco's paper instead.

On the other hand, on Draco's paper, the other boy had carelessly scrawled, "_Whatever Fowl's paper said_" in purposely large, obnoxiously messy handwriting across the front page. Underneath that, Draco had scribbled, "_And you still better give me 100% because my father is on the Board of Governors. Eat that." _He was now, like Artemis, peering around the table, trying to see what other amusing answers his friends had managed to cook up. Normally, Artemis would have frowned upon such a careless exploitation of authority, but seeing as this was Lockhart, it wouldn't have mattered.

Giving up, Artemis decided to just fail this class for the sake of his pride, and scrawled, in return, "_Whatever Malfoy's paper said" _in the same large, obnoxious handwriting. "_And you still better give me 100% because if Artemis Fowl II doesn't end up getting top scores in your class, there will be an inquiry from the Ministry." _If he ended up with a "T," he could always register a complaint with the four Heads of House and the Headmaster and petition for a grade change through a standardized test from the Ministry. It would not be that difficult.

Having made up his mind, Artemis leaned back in his chair and listened to the clock tick while he daydreamed of different ways to make Lockhart's life miserable this year.

"All right, everyone, time's up!"

_Speak of the devil and he shall appear._

"Oh, very good, Miss Davis has only missed one question! Oh, excellent, excellent, oh, Miss Bole has gotten a perfect score! And Miss Parkinson, as well! I have great hopes for this class! Ten points to Slytherin, each! Yes, that's exactly what I wanted...Copy this down if you didn't get it right...my favorite color is...(here Artemis tuned him out, not wanting to clog up his precious memory space with Lockhart's idiocy)" the infuriating man said as he went around, collecting their papers. "Oh dear, Mr. Goyle, you will need some extra work. Mr. Crabbe, as well."

Lockhart's smile sagged (much to Artemis' satisfaction) when he got to their table and saw the deliberately derogatory answers on all four boys' papers. Frowning, he said, "See me after class, all of you."

Draco smirked. "As if he can make me listen," he hissed to everyone. "My father's on the Board of Governors."

"We know," they chorused in response.

Lockhart arrived at the front of the room. "All right, class, we'll start off with a hands-on demonstration!" With exaggerated acting, he swept a blanket off a birdcage…full of buzzing, electric blue blobs. They were about eight inches tall – oh, were those wings? They stopped zipping around long enough for Artemis to see their forms – little humanoid creatures with pointed ears and wings. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies!"

They immediately sprang to the bars, yammering loudly in a high-pitched tongue that was just about as annoying as Lockhart's own talk. Making faces and some very obscene hand gestures, they bounced around their cage like oversized, colored electrons.

Artemis' eyes twitched. He could just imagine Commander Root turning red in fury and indignation at a fellow fairy being treated as such. Even though they technically were a completely different family of fairies. Lockhart would be no match for the People and their technology. He smiled at the thought of the arrogant imbecile preaching to them being tagged in the forehead by a laser.

The class stared at it numbly. "What?"

"Great. So we have to deal with a bunch of mutated Fizzing Whizbees," Blaise commented dryly.

"You think so? Well, what would you do if I did this?" And Lockhart snapped open the large padlock, releasing the pixies into the room.

Swearing loudly, Blaise jumped up from his seat and ducked down low – which was a smart reaction, because the pixies began zooming around the classroom like fat bullets, scattering papers and ink jars everywhere. Several of the girls were screaming, and Crabbe and Goyle were attempting to bat off their attackers (and failing miserably).

Two attempted to grab Artemis by the ears and drag him somewhere – unfortunately they had picked the wrong victim, because his first reflex was to ruthlessly stun both of them. They dropped to the ground like little water balloons that did _not_ explode on impact (thank evolution).

"Disappointing," Lockhart said, clicking his tongue. "Now watch as I demonstrate how to _really_ get rid of these pixies."

So saying, he made a complicated wand movement with his arm and said, "_Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"_

The spell, if it was even a real spell, had no effect. If anything, it only made the pixies bolder and angrier. Several of them focused their attentions on Lockhart and dive-bombed him.

Lockhart screamed and ran.

Observing this, Blaise muttered, "I knew he was a useless fraud."

The four boys were currently huddling underneath the strong wooden tables, which were heavy enough to ward off the pixies' attacks from above. At first, their plan was to barricade themselves inside their little makeshift fort composed of bench wood and Lockhart's books, and simply stun any curious little pixie that happened to fly by, wondering what victims it could glean from that location.

Unfortunately, as several of their number began dropping around Artemis and his friends' table, the pixies began to realize that maybe causing mayhem within the classroom was not just for fun anymore, but for revenge for their fallen comrades. That was when they stopped trying to pull Lockhart's hair and destroy his many photographs of himself, and instead, target the four last survivors in a bombardment attack.

Artemis, realizing that individual spells would not be enough to take down all of the pixies, who were too fast and numerous for that tactic, hastily cast _Protego_ before they could get any closer and cause even more damage.

"We're getting out of here," Draco muttered. "This is a joke. My father will definitely hear about this."

"Every man for himself," Artemis agreed.

Grabbing their bags (and in Artemis' case, throwing a particularly nasty stinging hex at one of the pixies and "accidentally" hitting Lockhart right on the face instead), the four boys made a beeline for the door, which was, thankfully, only a few feet away. The large, thick panels of wood slammed shut to the sound of a screaming Lockhart, making Artemis wish that it hadn't been necessary to leave in such haste. It would have been worth it to see the man's expression as his precious face began puffing up as if he had had a particularly violent allergic reaction.

"I am never going back into that hell again!" Blaise wailed.

"I _know_, right? That was such _fun_," Draco exclaimed sarcastically.

"I _did_ get him in the face with a stinging hex…" Artemis said, to general applause.

"I guess that means we won't be seeing him after class, then," Nott said cheerfully.

Not that anyone was complaining.

* * *

They were on their way to Herbology when they ran into Potter and Weasley again. A small Gryffindor boy (who was probably a new first-year, given that they had never seen him before) was holding a camera and begging for a signed photo. Potter looked rather uncomfortable.

"Please? Please, please, please, please?" he begged.

Potter was struggling to find a way to politely decline and get rid of the brat.

"Should we try to help?..." Nott asked the rest, uncertainly.

"How would we?" Draco sniffed. "Scare off the little Gryffindor with our big, ugly Slytherin-ness?"

"Oh, no," Artemis moaned.

"What now?" Draco asked.

"Let's get out of here. Lockhart's coming."

They left Potter to his own devices as the man began making a big scene about fame.

* * *

_Seven days into the school year_

"Right! I've had enough of him!"

They had already suffered a week of Lockhart's egotism, and none of them were sure if they could survive the year. In his frustration, Artemis had hexed the photograph of Lockhart on one of his books to erupt in some very large, painful-looking hives, and noted with relish that even now, it still had not figured a way to get rid of them. The picture was currently grabbing its face in pain and hiding off to the side of the frame. Hopefully it would stay there.

"We should ask Professor Snape about the club, now," Theodore suggested.

The club – with all of the drama concerning Potter and Weasley and the flying car, as well as the several plots that the Slytherins had come up with to get rid of Lockhart (the current polls flying around had "accidental poisoning by Professor Snape" and "finally exploding his already swelled head with a well-placed Reductor curse" at the top of the list), they had all but forgotten of their original plan.

"What club, Mr. Nott?" the potions master appeared behind them.

"Professor Snape! Thank Merlin you're here!" Blaise said dramatically. "We thought we would all die from Lockhart-itis." Indeed, many derogatory new words had sprouted up, with Lockhart's name as the base. Draco snickered.

"It's not exactly a club, Professor Snape," Artemis explained. "However, since we felt that Lockhart's supposed expertise in his subject was clearly lacking…we have decided that independent study would be needed in order to graduate from this year at least somewhat competent."

"We were wondering if we could use the dungeons for practice during the free periods," Draco said. "We know that a teacher would be needed to supervise, but if we asked someone else, they would probably make us share our time with other students. We won't cause any trouble, and return the classroom to its previous condition once we have finished."

Snape actually smiled. "I don't see why not. In fact, it makes me glad to see that at least some students here have the common sense to take the initiative. Ten points to Slytherin each."

They cheered.

* * *

**A/N: I guess Artemis isn't the only "special" one here! No, Theodore doesn't know about the People right now like Artemis does.  
**

**By the way, about Blaise's somewhat obscure "gay jokes" about Lockhart, I sincerely apologize for such a derogatory and insulting statement.**

**Lockhart: Thank you so much, I knew that you were only –**

**KM101: I meant the gay community. I have nothing against them. Now, _you_, on the other hand…**

**Lockhart: :*(**

**KM101: XD**

**Seriously, though, it's just part of Blaise's character. So please, don't take offense because I had Blaise call Lockhart gay. He didn't really mean "gay" in a mean way; he was just trying to get on Lockhart's nerves. There's nothing wrong with being gay in real life, of course. And for "gaydar" and "to die as he lived, draped in the arms of another man," you can blame LittleKuriboh, creator of the Yu-Gi-Oh abridged series. Don't try to talk to me about Yu-Gi-Oh, though - I'm one of those people who watches Yu-Gi-Oh Abridged, but not the actual anime/manga.  
**

**P.S. Brownie points for pointing out any other obscure references in there! Same goes throughout the entire series, actually.**

* * *

Special Post-Author's Note Scene:

The Slytherins' Amazing List of Ways to Kill Gilderoy Lockhart

1. Accidental "poisoning" by Professor Snape.

2. Finally exploding his already swelled head by a well-placed Reductor Curse.

3. Leave him alone and let his own stupidity kill him.

4. Lock him in a cage with Cornish Pixies.

5. Teaching him _real_ magic – that's sure to blow his little mind apart.

6. Avada Kedavra!

7. Pushing him into a boiling vat the next time he interrupts a Potions lesson.

8. Cursing him with acne and watch him slowly scream himself to death.

9. Burn all of his clothes…while he's wearing them.

10. Stab him with his own peacock quills.

11. Turn a real werewolf loose on him and see how well he manages.

12. Transfigure him into a rat and lock him in the Owlery.

13. Tell him about special beauty products hidden deep within the Forbidden Forest.

14. Drop a 10-ton metal weight with razor sharp spikes on top of him.

15. Tell Filch that he is tracking mud all over the Great Hall.


	4. The Writing on the Wall

The classes were a great success. They learned more in one day than they had from Lockhart in that week (except for the fact that setting Cornish pixies loose in a room is a very unwise decision) combined with what they had learned from Quirrell in all of the last year.

Professor Snape, as predicted, had been quite pleased to oversee their self-education. He even provided a few helpful tips when they were dueling.

"Try to anticipate your opponents' attacks, but when dodging attacks, it is advisable to only move out of the way at the last minute. That is also why knowing a variety of spells is handy – it makes you less predictable, and you will always have a backup. Also, do not waste all of your trump cards and most powerful spells in the beginning unless you are sure you can defeat your opponent quickly. Against an unknown opponent, you should reserve your energy - defend against his attacks first, to see what he can do, and when he is tired and his movements have become predictable, move in to strike."

Artemis, being quite skilled at reading people, had picked this up quite quickly and soon was able to quite accurately predict the actions of his fellow classmates. Then again, as second years, they didn't exactly have a wide variety of spells to choose from.

"It's fine," Professor Snape had reassured them, after Artemis emerged, undefeated, from their four-way duel, yet again. "This is why you have this class."

Actually, it had been Draco Malfoy's idea to learn how to create their own spells. "There has to be some way for a spell to come into being, right? Obviously, someone would have to experiment until the right word produces the right effect."

"That is correct, Mr. Malfoy. But it is a tedious task, and requires much use of vocabulary."

"Have you ever made up your own spells, sir?" Artemis asked, curious.

Professor Snape stared at him, and then smiled, as though proud by this statement. "Oh, yes, Mr. Fowl. Several. And I was around your age, too, so I do not think that it would be impossible for someone like you."

Artemis, pleased, made a note to himself to research the art of spell-making later. There had to be some sort of strategy or pattern, as most of the spells he had seen so far were Latin or Greek based.

* * *

Their next grueling session of Defense Against Lockhart, however, put him out of his happy state.

After the disastrous incident with the Cornish pixies, Lockhart had abandoned all attempts at any hands-on demonstrations. He had instead chosen to limit himself to role-playing, to prevent any more wounds to his pride. (Although, in Artemis' opinion, he really couldn't sink any lower.) Even then, his "role-playing" lessons were atrocious and just as inaccurate and useless as setting the pixies loose. At least the pixies had helped the boys develop their reflexes somewhat.

The man had attempted to lecture them on how to "destroy" a werewolf – through demonstration. And he had picked Artemis to play the werewolf. Lockhart still hadn't forgiven him and his friends for their…shall we say, _amusing_ responses to his quiz on the very first day of class.

"I want you to growl, Artemis. It shouldn't be that hard."

Shooting a piercing glare at anyone who dared giggle, he said, stoically, "Roar." (At this point, Draco and Blaise tumbled out of their seats, laughing, while Theodore shrugged at him apologetically. If Artemis had been in their position, he would have been so much more mature, at least. They would definitely be getting it later.)

"No, no, my boy, that's not how it's done! Come now, bring out the artist inside of you! There must be more behind such a lackluster performance! Act, like it's your soul!"

_Firstly, I'm not 'your' boy, secondly, not everyone is an attention-seeking moron like you are, and thirdly, that didn't even make sense_. And so, in response, Artemis asked (because that's the logical thing to do when things don't make sense - you ask about it) "How am I supposed to act like it is my 'soul'? You, sir, are making absolutely no sense."

Lockhart threw his head back and laughed. "That is because you do not understand the true beauty of drama, my boy! Now, act as though you were actually a werewolf!"

Was this man insane?

"Oh, all right. Fine."

So, Artemis acted as though he was a werewolf. Now, what would he say, had he been a werewolf? Artemis thought very carefully. Honestly. He did try very hard.

Maybe a little too hard.

_What would I do, if I had been a werewolf?_

Artemis finally decided to say, "I'm actually not a werewolf, because no werewolf in his right mind would admit that he was a werewolf, least of all in a school, lest he suffer the wrath of angry, worried parents and the Ministry coming to arrest him and label him as a dangerous level XXXXX magical creature. Therefore, I am a werewolf by saying I am not a werewolf. However, since I am openly admitting that I am a werewolf, it means that I really am not a werewolf. Those statements, however, contradict."

When Artemis finished his little speech, the entire class, except for Lockhart, began laughing.

_See…I _do _have a sense of humor…just a very morbid, obscure one that many are too dull to understand._

Lockhart sighed. Yes! He was finally getting somewhere past the arrogant berk. "Artemis, please. You know what I mean. Act like a monster, so I can actually show the class how to defend themselves."

"What, using a Homorphus Charm against a werewolf? They would probably die trying to attempt that in a real situation."

"You simply don't understand, you silly boy," Lockhart said arrogantly.

Could this man get any more frustrating? First, he was preaching a bunch of completely incorrect, nonsensical tactics on defense, and then, when corrected, actually told him that he was a silly little boy who didn't understand what he was talking about. As if he – Artemis Fowl the Second – was a _silly little boy_! It was utterly ridiculous!

"That is correct, _Professor _Lockhart," Artemis retorted. "I simply don't understand. In other words, I simply don't understand how a fool like you could have become a teacher." Lockhart grew red in the face.

Artemis gleefully took this down as a rare moment in history – Gilderoy Lockhart was actually embarrassed!

"Mr. Fowl!" he said angrily. "Become a werewolf this instant or it will be detention with me tonight!"

"But I _am _a werewolf, Professor! It's not my fault that it's not the full moon!" Artemis snapped.

The laughter of the rest of the Slytherins drowned out the rest of Lockhart's vain protests.

* * *

On their way back to the dungeons, Artemis glared daggers through the innocent-looking picture of Lockhart on the back of another one of his books. (The first Lockhart still hadn't managed to get rid of the hives, by the way.) The photograph was currently preening and combing his hair. Artemis silenced the photograph by cursing it with an exceptionally nasty case of acne.

"That, my friend, was _brilliant_," Blaise laughed.

"I wish there was a curse to ruin his hideously styled hair," Artemis muttered sourly. "Then, I could _really _put Lockhart off."

"Oh, yeah, I know one! That's easy!" Blaise said cheerfully, brandishing his wand at his book. "I condemn you to a lifetime of permanently long, straight, black, and completely 100% conservative hair! Snapify!"

Everyone laughed, but then, there was a flash of orange light and the picture of Lockhart shrieked pitifully, clawing at his head. His spoiled, curly golden hairstyle was now a perfect replica of their Potions Master.

"Wow…" Blaise breathed. "I just created a spell to make someone look like Professor Snape! See, I'm a genius just like you, Artemis!"

"I don't know if I should be amused or offended by that, Mr. Zabini," Professor Snape said from behind them.

Oh.

"Krup," Blaise muttered.

* * *

_Draco_

"By the way," Draco said cheerily one day. "I forgot to tell you guys."

"Tell us what?" Blaise asked.

"It's actually a big secret – a sort of surprise," he teased. "I don't know…"

"Out with it already, Malfoy, I don't have time for this," Blaise said impatiently.

After more wheedling and false humility on Draco's part, the boy finally pronounced, "I'm the new Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team!"

"Wow, are you serious?" Theodore asked. "Great job!"

"How?" Blaise asked, looking a bit jealous.

"Eh, I tried out. And then my Father decided to donate some new brooms – Nimbus 2001's," he said, truthfully.

"Huh. Well, that figures. Potter's still pretty good, though, so you'll have work pretty hard to win," Theodore said truthfully.

"Yeah, well, practice is now. Do you guys want to watch?" Draco asked. "Then you can compare all you want."

"I might as well," Artemis said. "I want to see if I can tone up the Chasers' strategies a bit."

"Then let's go!"

* * *

Arriving on the field, however, they were confronted with a different dilemma. Marcus Flint, who was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, was loudly arguing with the Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood. Or rather, the Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood, was loudly arguing and yelling in Marcus Flint's face in the typically boisterous Gryffindor manner, while Marcus Flint stood by and smirked superiorly in the typical Slytherin manner.

"No way! I reserved the field today for Gryffindor weeks in advance!" Wood was yelling.

"Well, I have a special note from Professor Snape today that gives Slytherin permission to practice," Flint retorted. "We have to train our new Seeker."

"You've got a new Seeker?" Potter asked.

"Right here," Flint proudly gestured to him.

"Malfoy?" the others asked incredulously. "You're the new Seeker?"

"Jealous, Potter?" Draco couldn't help saying.

"Mr. Malfoy made a generous donation of new Nimbus 2001 brooms for our entire team," Flint said proudly.

"Well, at least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in," Granger appeared out of nowhere at Potter's defense. "They got in on pure talent."

Draco was shocked. How dare she insinuate that he did not have talent! In his anger (and, as he later thought guiltily, a result of habit from twelve years of upbringing at the hands of his supremacist father), he spat, "No one asked _you_, filthy Mudblood!"

The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

The world seemed to start turning in slow motion. The stunned silence, the shocked faces of the Gryffindor team slowly morphing and giving way to anger.

Oh, troll dung.

This wasn't good.

And then the silence broke, and everyone fully comprehended what had just occured.

The effect was immediate.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team leapt at him in fury and if the Slytherin team's reflexes hadn't been just as top-notch, Draco knew that he would have been flattened within seconds, especially since the other Weasleys (the twins) were already carrying their beater clubs.

Luckily for him, the Slytherin Quidditch team (it was common knowledge, and even Draco, as a Slytherin, had to admit it) had long relied on foul play and just plain brute force to winning games, and as it was, Draco, being only a second year and the Seeker, was the only member of the Slytherin team who wasn't the size of a broom cupboard. It was all too easy for the rest of his teammates to surround him like walls around a fortress while the Weasley twins attempted to bombard their way through with the clubs.

Weasley (the youngest one this time), on the other hand, was still standing off to the side, and pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" He yelled a curse, and before Draco could draw his own wand to defend himself, there was already a flash of light bursting from the end of Weasley's wand.

Draco flinched. Nothing happened. Cautiously, he opened one eye, then the other.

Weasley was kneeling on the ground, clutching his stomach uncomfortably. Suddenly, his mouth opened, and a large slug the size of a banana flew out and landed on the ground a few feet in front of him. He spewed a few more slugs, and one flew far enough that it nearly touched Draco's boot. He backed away, and suddenly felt like throwing up himself.

Artemis and the gang were running from the stands down to the field.

"What was that?" Theodore asked, panting. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine, eventually," Artemis stated drily (his normal tone). "It won't kill him. That would just be a simple Slug-Vomiting Charm."

"Yeah, I can see that, Captain Obvious," Oliver Wood snapped curtly, still slightly more miffed about the field being stolen from the Gryffindors than about the fact that a fellow House member was vomiting slugs, courtesy of his own spell backfiring due to his broken wand. "Is there any way we can fix it? A countercurse, or something?"

Artemis raised an eyebrow, fixing his classic _"Are you kidding me?"_ stare on his face. Draco would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so serious. "As its name implies, tt's a charm, not a curse," his friend explained slowly and patronizingly, like Oliver Wood was a first-year. "There is no countercurse for a charm. It just so happens that one cannot reverse this particular charm, probably because no one ever bothered to try for such an insignificant spell – I suppose he'll have to wait it out."

Weasley looked quite depressed at this statement. Granger was scolding, "Ronald, that's why you never attack someone with a broken wand!" She and Potter picked him up and dragged him away, slugs still pouring from his mouth. Draco watched them go, guiltily, wondering if he should run after them and apologize.

"Well, now that your Seeker's gone, can we have the field?" Flint asked.

* * *

_At the Halloween Feast_

"You called her a Mudblood?" Theodore asked incredulously.

"Yes, I did, okay? I got angry at her comment about me buying my way into the Quidditch team, overreacted, and let the words tumble out before I could stop myself," Draco muttered. "I didn't really mean it. I don't know what came over me. I just wasn't thinking."

He did have a right be angry, in Artemis' opinion. Watching him today, Artemis judged that he was a fairly decent player who probably could have made the team even if his father hadn't donated the new brooms, although he couldn't exactly compare him to Potter when the other wasn't even around. Anyway, he had been more focused on teaching Flint and his Chasers new strategies that actually involved something other than beating the members of the opposing team to a pulp and then catching up on the score when everyone was too tired to make any more penalty goals.

It still was no excuse to lose his temper and lash out in such a way, though. "You should apologize to them."

Draco grunted.

"Speaking of those three, where are they?" Theodore asked. "They're gone, _again_."

It was true. The three were nowhere to be seen at the Halloween feast. They truly were missing out on a lot. "We'll go find them," he reassured Draco. "That way, if they try to beat you up, we can run away on you."

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Artemis."

* * *

They left the feast a little bit early and went to find Granger – hopefully those three hadn't already gone back to the Gryffindor dormitories. The group had rounded the corner when a deep, raspy voice sounded:

_**Come to me…let me rip you…let me tear you…time to kill…**_

"Stop it, Blaise," Artemis said.

"What? I didn't do anything!" Blaise protested. Artemis looked at him. Blaise's eyes showed that he was completely confused. Okay, so he wasn't lying.

"Well, someone was saying something!" Artemis said. He glared at Draco. Draco stared back, also confused – he was being truthful in his confusion, too.

"What are you talking about? I don't hear anything."

"Me neither," Theodore seconded.

_**Time to kill…time to kill…**_

"How can you not hear that?" Artemis was beginning to grow worried. Was his mind playing tricks on him? No…it couldn't be the voice inside of his head again. He thought he was over that. The voice only showed up when he was stressed. And besides, this voice sounded more like a raspy hissing, not the semi-coherent speech that his brain pelted at him when he was being attacked by moving chess pieces or crazy Russians.

_That's because it's not._

Artemis didn't know what to think. On one hand, it was reassuring because that meant that he didn't have a bloodthirsty subconscious bent on murder. On the other…well, one, there was really a dangerous presence inside the school that only he could detect, or two, he was going mad.

_Trust me…you're not mad…you're just more…powerful…than everyone else… _

"Hear _what_?" Blaise asked, annoyed.

"Quiet – just listen," Artemis pleaded. The others were perplexed, but complied.

_**Come to me…I smell blood…**_

"Don't you hear that voice?" Artemis asked. He may have been a calm, controlled genius, but really, even he knew that it was time to be worried when he began hearing murderous voices inside his head. Voices that no one else could hear.

_Use that power well…_

"It's saying 'I smell blood'!" Artemis nearly screamed in his frustration. "How can you not hear that?"

_Because you have strength that they do not…listen to me…listen to me…_

_SHUT UP!_ Artemis yelled inside his head. He was already stressed enough from a voice outside of his head without a second voice within his own brain creeping him out. Maybe he really was going insane from all of this magic and developing an alter ego as a result. He really did wish the voice would be quiet. If he was going to give himself "advice" he wanted it to be useful. Not a regurgitation of the speech that his father already gave him. Those phrases must have gotten locked inside his subconscious somehow.

(Artemis tried to ignore the fact that memories of what the Sorting Hat had told him were also surfacing now.)

"Listen! It sounds like a raspy old man…it's really quiet…can't you hear it?"

But none of them understood what he was talking about, even though they strained their ears trying to find the source of Artemis' distress. The voice, the low, hissing sound, echoed around the corridor, yet it felt as if it was coming from the walls of the castle itself. Artemis broke into a run, following the deathly whisper down the corridors, turning around corners – he didn't care if he was leaving his friends behind, as they yelled at him to stop, he could hear the voice more clearly now and he wasn't going to let it go!

_**Time to kill…I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD!**_

They skidded to a stop at the end of a deserted corridor. Potter, Weasley, and Granger were all standing there.

"Well, that's nice, we found them," Blaise said. "But did you really have to go through all of those theatrics, Artemis?"

Artemis shook his head. He was not listening to Blaise, but following the gaze of the three Gryffindors up the wall.

Miss Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging from a torch holder. On the wall, in dripping letters, painted as red as blood, were the words:

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE**

* * *

**A/N: By the way, I know that this timeline is slightly out of order, and that the entire name-calling incident didn't happen all on Halloween. But I had to change things around in order to make my plotline fit.**

**Oh, and for the thing about Artemis acting like a werewolf…that's what I would have done in Harry's situation when Lockhart forced him to role-play in his demonstrations. Besides, we need a bit of comic relief from Artemis himself once in a while.**

**P.S. "Snapify" is something I came up with while high on sugar. Since the boys are Slytherins and actually like Professor Snape, Blaise is trying to change Lockhart's hair to look like Snape because it would be an improvement (in my opinion, anyway). If they had been Gryffindors, it would probably be an insult to Professor Snape, but I like to think of the Slytherin boys as "honoring" their Head of House.**


	5. Investigation

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED**

**ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE  
**

"Oh, damn," Blaise muttered, eyes widening as he realized what the words on the wall said.

The three Gryffindors whirled around. "Why are you following us? How long have you been standing there?" Weasley asked, still angry about before.

"Listen, I know you're still mad, but we weren't following you!" Draco protested. "I wanted to say sorry to Granger for calling her a Mud- well, you know what, and we went looking for you, and ended up here!"

Ronald snapped scathingly, "Oh, yeah, a likely story –"

"Shh, Ron, it's okay!" Potter interrupted. "What's important is that we get out of here before –"

But it was too late. There was a thunder of footsteps – the feast had ended. And now everyone was coming past this way to go back to their dorms. Artemis moaned. Today couldn't get any scarier..

"I know what it looks like," Potter hissed to them, "but I didn't do it! There was this voice –"

"A voice?" Artemis asked. "I –"

But he never got to complete his sentence, for just then, Argus Filch, the caretaker, pushed past the crowd of students. He froze at the writing on the wall, and then his eyes traveled upwards to meet the lifeless form of Ms. Norris.

"MY CAT!" he shrieked. "MY CAT! WHAT HAPPENED TO HER?" His pig-like eyes darted around suspiciously. The first person they fell on happened to be Harry, quite unfortunately for the other boy. But hey, at least it wasn't him.

"You!" he accused, pointing a finger at the boy. "You've murdered my cat! I'll kill you, mark my words –"

"What? I never - " Harry protested, but the caretaker's screeching quickly cut him off.

"Argus!" Professor Dumbledore's voice boomed over the crowd. The rest of the teachers, too, at arrived at the site of the pandemonium. He scanned their group. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger. And Mr. Fowl, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini, and Mr. Nott – all of you, to my office now please. Everyone else, back to your dormitories."

* * *

_Professor Snape_

_Of all the things that had to happen,_ he thought, _it was this. And, of course, Potter and his friends just HAD to be involved. Like they did every time there was trouble.__ Just like his father._

And to make things worse, it seemed that Artemis Fowl and _his _friends had gotten dragged into the mess, too. At least _this_ seemed to be a mere accident, not like the (cough cough) _incident_ last year when he and Draco Malfoy had _deliberately _waltzed into the third-floor corridor looking for that damned Philosopher's Stone like the dunderheaded Gryffindors they were with...The one positive outcome from that was Lucius' son emerging less bratty than before, which made the private lessons over the summer more bearable. Severus had always liked the kid, but he was not so taxing on his patience now.

Of course, Dumbledore wasn't the type of man to accuse mere students of things, especially second-year students, no matter how intelligent or dangerous (though Severus had heard some serious rumors about Artemis Fowl for several years now between the mysterious "disappearance" and "reappearance" of the boy's father, and after teaching the boy himself he was no longer sure if those stories were exaggeration or not).

Still, despite this, he knew that all four of his students were innocent.

Cursing an old Squib's cat was not something someone like Artemis would do. Severus was not sure of the real perpetrator's motives, but it was obviously a power display of some sort. And while Artemis liked to dabble in power, by learning spells and dueling, like any stereotypical Slytherin, he was not the type to go after it directly - the entire Fowl line was more interested in making money, anyway, and its latest member was certainly no exception, if his behavior had anything to say about it.

Theodore - he was too nice, too naive...Severus doubted the boy could squash a bug if his life depended on it. Because "the innocent bug was just trying to live, and if it's poisonous and was trying to hurt me, I probably deserved it because I was intruding on its personal space or threatening it somehow!" Honestly. Severus sometimes wondered why the Hat put Theodore Nott in Slytherin. Maybe he asked it to put him there, to please his father. Who knew.

Blaise was intelligent and devious in a way, but not malevolent...and not the type to curse Filch's cat, either. Dye its fur green, like the Weasley twins once did for revenge after it got them caught by Filch for sneaking out at night, maybe. Shining a bright light in its eyes to momentarily blind it while he ran away, maybe. String it up and paint the wall red in some elaborate Halloween prank, maybe. But Petrifying it with what was an obviously Dark curse, and making the works on the wall no.

Draco was not as spiteful as he had once been, either - far from it. Severus seriously wondered if he even believed in the "Muggle-borns are inferior" spiel that Lucius Malfoy had ingrained into his head since birth anymore. He could only hope that the boy didn't learn how that statement was wrong the hard way, like he had...

Severus' thoughts came to an end as the group arrived in front of the familiar stone gargoyle leading up to the Headmaster's quarters. "Fizzing Whizbies," Dumbledore said, and the gargoyle leapt aside to reveal a winding staircase. The rest of the teachers followed after the seven second-years were herded through the stone archway.

Fizzing Whizbies. Huh. The old man was never creative with his passwords.

As soon as they entered the Headmaster's office, Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall placed the cat on the desk and began examining it thoroughly, poking and prodding it and trying all sorts of spells, from basic to advanced, to attempt to free the animal from its frozen stupor or at least determine the cause of the Petrification. Filch, meanwhile, was going nearly ballistic over his beloved pet, and all seven of the students looked around uncomfortably, unsure of what to say, what to do, and how to act under this odd new circumstance. Although certain students did not show their nervousness as obviously as the others.

You should know who, you dunderheads. Seriously.

Surely none of them could possibly be guilty, and at any rate, none of them wanted to be condemned as guilty, either.

As the other occupants of the room were occupied with their panic, Professor Snape took advantage of the distraction pulled the four Slytherin boys aside. "Tell me everything that happened now, so I actually have a case to work on during the real questions," he hissed quickly.

It was quite obvious why he would do this, and the Slytherins definitely knew it. Professor Snape had great pride to the point of prejudice in his House, and to allow the students under his care be convicted for something like this (obviously Dark Magic, Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were mumbling) would be detrimental to both his reputation and his values. Despite the way he acted, Professor Snape genuinely cared about his students (the Slytherins, anyway) no matter how much of dunderheads they could be, and the ones currently stuck in the Headmaster's office were not dunderheads at all.

Well, the Zabini kid was a bit loud and boisterous for a Slytherin. And the Fowl kid had a tendency to get into messes that most sane people who valued their lives would leave alone (the Philosopher's Stone fiasco from the previous years was a good example of that, at any rate) because he was too damn intelligent for his own good and therefore had the idea that he was young and invincible and could never get caught or be defeated since he could easily outsmart any adversary that came his way, true. But in general, these four students were the best that he had seen in years - naturally curious, intelligent, assertive, lateral thinkers. And _actually capable of following simple instructions_, UNLIKE 99% of most of the students he had had the misfortune to teach.

At any rate, those students were too valuable to lose. They gave him some reason to believe that there was still hope in humanity.

They wasted no time in answering, knowing fully well their predicament. Draco said timidly, "We quit the feast early because I wanted to find Granger and apologize for – being mean to her – since I accidentally said something kind of - well, rude – earlier. We ran into them in the corridor – they were staring at the wall and the cat, before everyone else came. We don't know what happened before that."

Short, simple, and to the point. No beating around the bush. No lies or cover-ups. Draco had included the entire group's alibi, their motives, and what they had witnessed in three clear sentences.

Professor Snape nodded. The information he had, though limited, would be easy enough to work with if it came down to questioning.

* * *

_Artemis_

At that very moment, Professor Dumbledore made his verdict. "Your cat isn't dead, Mr. Filch," he said, "but simply Petrified. How is anyone's guess…"

"Ask him!" Filch roared, pointing at Artemis. "He was there! A Slytherin! He saw it – just ask him!"

Clearly, Argus Filch had trouble setting his priorities. One second, he was throwing a tantrum while raging at Harry for killing his cat, and the next, he was accusing Artemis of being the guilty one.

"What?" Artemis retorted indignantly. "What does being a Slytherin have to do with any of this? Just because I am in that House does not necessarily mean I am evil!"

_It doesn't, right? I'm perfectly sane and in control of my actions. My friends were there with me the entire time, so they would have been able to see what happened if I went crazy and woke up with no memories. And that voice was just my subconscious...it had to be...psychology _

"Argus, this is very advanced Dark Magic – no second-year student, no matter how intelligent, could have done this!" yelled Dumbledore. "Calm yourself!"

"It wasn't him," Blaise spoke up. "Artemis was with us the entire time, and he never did anything!"

"Yeah," Potter added. "We were there first – they came way after."

"Then it was YOU!" Filch turned on Potter again. "He was there first – he knew I was a Squib!"

_So Filch is a Squib_, thought Artemis. _That's helpful._

"Argus!" Dumbledore shouted.

"Clearly, everyone here is innocent," Snape drawled. "My students have just arrived on the scene, and Potter and his friends were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. Although, I am curious as to why they were not at the Halloween feast…"

"We were at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party," Potter said. "Ask the ghosts – all of them will tell you that we were there."

Professor Snape made a thoughtful hum. "And yet, I doubt that the ghosts would have food suitable for the living. Why didn't you join the feast afterwards? Why go up that corridor, hmmm?"

"We were tired and wanted to go to bed," Potter explained. What an obvious lie.

"Without supper?" Snape asked cruelly – he'd cornered them there. Artemis assumed that the point of this questioning was not so much out of spite, to get Harry and his friends _into_ trouble, but rather, to direct attention away from the Slytherins, to get his charges _out _of trouble.

"We weren't hungry," Weasley said, but his rumbling stomach gave him away.

Artemis frowned. That was strange. Weasley was obviously lying.

That meant that Potter and his friends had gone up the corridor for another reason – what if they had heard the voice, too?

Professor Snape was about to respond to that last statement, but then Professor McGonagall interrupted, "Well, there is no evidence that Harry or any of his friends did anything wrong. We should simply leave things at that –"

"But my CAT!" Filch wailed. "I want to see PUNISHMENT!"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Argus," Professor Dumbledore reprimanded. "As for Ms. Norris, once the mandrakes have grown to full size, a potion can be made to relieve her."

"I'll do it," Lockhart cut in. "I'm an amazing brewer of potions – these types are my specialty –"

"Excuse me," Professor Snape growled, "but I believe _I _am the Potions Master at this school." Lockhart shrunk under his furious gaze, Artemis noticed gleefully. "As for these children, they can go, although I would advise them all not to wander the corridors alone at night." His gaze lingered on all of them like frost on a dead tree branch.

They left, quite chilled to the bone.

* * *

Outside, they heard Harry say, "Do you think I should have told them about the voice I heard?"

"Harry, hearing voices no one else can here is not a good sign, even with wizards," Weasley told him.

_So they knew about it, too._ But judging from what Weasley just said, broadcasting that he was hearing voices from the walls to the general population was not the most intelligent idea. The less people that knew, the better – he had already given too much away to his friends, and was only thankful that they had chosen not to say anything. The next day, he cornered Potter when he was alone.

"Oh, hello Artemis. What do you want?"

"Last night, did you mention that you heard a voice? One that led you to that corridor?"

Potter froze and looked at him suspiciously. "What did it sound like to you?"

"Come to me, let me rip you, let me tear you, I smell blood, time to kill," Artemis recited.

Potter's face lit up. "See, I knew it! I'm not crazy if you can hear it too!"

"I don't think that it is the best idea if we tell anyone else, though," Artemis said. "Hearing voices is definitely a bad thing – the less people who know about this, the better. I'll keep your secret from my friends if you do the same for me."

Potter sucked in his lip, but agreed that it was for the best. "Why can we hear it even though no one else can?"

"I don't know, but I'm guessing it has to do with that Chamber of Secrets," Artemis said. "It led both of our groups right to Ms. Norris, didn't it? And the whole spiel about the Heir – of what, I do not know, but if we find out who it is, we can find out who Petrified Ms. Norris."

"That makes sense. Why don't you and your friends research the Chamber?" Harry suggested. "No offense, but I'm pretty sure the pureblood daddies know more about this than they're letting on – I bet Malfoy can owl his dad about that, if he's willing to help. Me and my friends will try to find any other clues from outside sources."

"All right. Deal. We'll meet again next week."

* * *

As promised, all of the Slytherin boys wrote to their parents to ask them what they knew about the Chamber of Secrets, eager to help (more out of curiosity and taking themselves out of the blame than actual goodness, but it was close enough). Artemis, too, wrote to his father. While waiting for the response, Artemis opened up his laptop and searched "Chamber of Secrets."

Nothing useful. Of course the Muggle world wouldn't have anything. He looked it up in the Hogwarts library database that he had compiled. Again, there was nothing much – just one paragraph, in _Myths and Legends_.

"_The Chamber of Secrets is a mythical chamber built inside Hogwarts by Salazar Slytherin, one of the four Founders, himself. Historically, he argued with the other three on who should be allowed education at the school. While the other three, mainly Godric Gryffindor, advocated for equal rights for all children of magic, Slytherin did not trust those who were Muggle-born. After an explosive argument, Slytherin left the school. Legend has it that before leaving, however, he built a chamber within Hogwarts and put a type of monster in there, and sealed it. Apparently, it can only be opened by his 'Heir,' although how he has managed this is a mystery and is therefore doubted by most modern historians."_

Interesting. So that was why Filch suspected him because he was a Slytherin. Now, what about the monster? It had to be some sort of creature that could petrify people. He searched "monster" and "petrify," but again, a bunch of useless articles came up. Not even a measly paragraph this time. None of the documented magical beasts that he found had the ability to petrify anything, although the venom of some sort of dog could put you to sleep…

Artemis scrawled a few notes on a sheet of parchment and closed his laptop. He would meet with everyone else later.

"Where should we meet, once we've found all the information?" Nott asked. Actually, all of them had received replies from their parents, except for him.

"How about the girl's bathroom on the second floor?" Hermione said. "People wander into empty classrooms, but no one ever goes in there because Moaning Myrtle haunts it."

"A girl's bathroom? Really, Hermione? In case you haven't noticed, we're all boys here except for you."

Hermione smiled. "Exactly. They won't be looking for you guys in there."

The boys groaned.

* * *

But they eventually all met in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Of course, the boys had felt rather uncomfortable about going in there – it was a _girls' _bathroom, after all…

"We investigated the crime scene," Hermione said. "We found a bunch of spiders running around, and a large puddle of water on the floor – but that was all. I did a little research when I got back to the dormitories but there wasn't much that told me about water or spiders."

"Well, we know what the Chamber of Secrets is, and who the Heir is supposedly descended from," Artemis said, showing them his notes. "I couldn't find the monster, though – nothing that came up could Petrify a cat, or Petrification in general. A lot of creatures can put you to sleep or just kill you outright, but nothing on the damage that matched Ms. Norris. Your information about the spiders was interesting, though; I'll have to research that again."

_And what did a puddle of water have to do with anything? _Artemis thought to himself. To the untrained eye, it seemed like a useless clue, but how the water got there in the first place was a strange question. The cat's Petrification could have been caused by the same thing that caused the water to flood, as well. Artemis stored that information away in his brain for later use.

"That matches up with what my Father told me," Draco said. "Fifty years ago, the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and a bunch of people were Petrified before some girl actually died. But no one knows who opened it or what was in there – the incident was very hush-hush and covered up, and they would have closed the school, too."

"But why didn't they?" Weasley asked.

"Apparently the perpetrator was caught," Draco said. "He was expelled, though never imprisoned. He might still be here now."

"Well, it's not the students then," Potter said. "It has to be someone old enough – someone that went to school here fifty years ago."

"We can look it up in the library," Granger suggested. "There's got to be records of people who were expelled in what year for what reason."

"Do that, then," Artemis said. "Keep us informed – we may be Slytherins, but we're smart enough to know that if something bad happens, we're the first to be blamed."

They nodded.

* * *

**A/N: By the way…this goes for the last chapter and probably for the rest of the entire book. Artemis is just as clueless about the voice as we are, so remember not to take _everything_ he hypothesizes at face value. Throughout the story he will make many more guesses. Of course, he is a genius, so some things will be correct. It's up to you guys to figure out which parts are right and wrong and piece it all together.**


	6. The Rogue Bludger

It had taken forever for Artemis to receive a reply from his father.

He was alone by the Great Lake, trying to get some thinking done about the new mystery that had arisen, when Hecate had swooped down upon him. He knew that it was important, because for some reason, she had decided to find him directly rather than just dropping the letter off during meals as usual.

His research, as well as the letter from Draco's father, had given him a small but still quite significant amount of information; he had hoped his father's knowledge would be able to fill in the missing blanks. Artemis, quite unfortunately, had incorrectly expected for his own father to be more willing to divulge the information than Draco's father. As it was, however, the man had revealed even less than Lucius Malfoy.

_Dear Artemis,_

_I have only heard of it. It's a legend. Please don't go looking for trouble._

_- Father_

Artemis did not know if the curt reply was meant to hide something serious, or to protect him. Possibly a combination of both. Undoubtedly his father had found out about his little escapade from his first year and feared that he was about to go on another adventure. Which was a well-founded fear, but still...it was inconvenient. Artemis couldn't imagine any other reason for his father hiding that information...

Overprotective parents. Hmph.

Well, if his father was not going to divulge any of the information, then fine. That just meant Artemis couldn't exactly tell him about what he was hearing or how real the situation actually was. Staring at the paper, Artemis was about to cast an _Incendio_ upon it, to prevent any other snooping eyes getting ahold of it, when he decided…what if he practiced a little more wandless magic? He willed a small flame to appear on the corner.

_That's it…focus that energy._

Artemis felt magic surging through his body towards his arms, and to his delight, the paper did start burning – although he did have a slight headache afterwards. He supposed that an elementary spell like setting things on fire was still considered destructive, according to Ollivander's words. He threw the ashes into the lake.

* * *

Artemis did not care much for Quidditch, but he went to the game anyway because a) he wanted to see his new strategies put into action, and b) his other friends had dragged him along because it was Draco's first game and the boy would never forgive them if they didn't go. Draco had even sent for a pair of his own omniculars from home for his friends to share so they could see him in action.

The game had been going well so far – the score was currently 110-30 for Slytherin thanks to the new tactics that he had taught to the Chasers and Keeper. Actually passing the Quaffle and practicing evasive maneuvers did wonders to the team that had before relied on cheating and brute force.

There were a large number of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in the crowd, and, as expected, they were all cheering for the Gryffindor team, despite the fact that the Lions were currently being destroyed on the field.

"Friendly, aren't they? No one likes the evil Slytherins," Blaise sulked.

"What's wrong with that Bludger?" Theo asked, pointing into the game. He was squinting through the omniculars. "Is it just me, or is it always chasing after Potter? Look!"

He was right – the Bludger was definitely constantly honing in on Potter - and only him.

"That's strange. Bludgers are supposed to fly at players randomly, generally the one closest to them," Artemis stated.

"Has it been cursed somehow?" Blaise asked.

"Hexing the Bludger is definitely not part of our strategy." Artemis had had complete and utter faith in his skill and plans for the Chasers. There was no need to cheat on top of that to win.

"Everyone wants to kill Potter during a Quidditch game," Blaise said. "Remember the cursed broom from Quirrell last year?"

"Well, this certainly is not a fair game," Theodore pointed out. "Oh, Wood's called a time-out."

The time-out, however, barely lasted a few minutes. After a bit of scuffling and arguing, the Gryffindor team was back in the game. Harry mounted his broom once more and took off into the air, to the exuberant cheers of about three-quarters of the stadium.

"Wow, did he really just get back on the broom and go play? Bloody Gryffindors," Blaise muttered. Most of the Slytherins, who shared Blaise's opinion, too, rolled their eyes at the outlandish display of bravery.

"Look, Draco's seen the Snitch!" Theodore interrupted, pointing. "Potter's after it too, though! This is going to be close!"

It all happened in a flash – both the Slytherin and Gryffindor Seekers were heading towards the small golden ball, almost neck to neck in their chase. Heads pointed forward and pressed flat against their brooms to maximize speed, with their arms outstretched, the two boys were literally flying millimeters from one another. Even with the omniculars, one could not tell who was going to win this close chase.

Eventually, Draco, with the newer, faster broom, got there a mere second before Harry, and as they fumbled for the Snitch, the rogue Bludger came out of nowhere and rammed into Harry's flank with a painful-sounding _crunch_. Flying off his broom in almost perfect projectile motion, he landed on the ground with a _thud_.

(It was at times like this that Artemis was glad he didn't play Quidditch. Seriously, he was already poorly coordinated enough as it was, without the added danger of sports.)

"Ouch. That one looked like it hurt," a worried Theodore whispered.

"It's going to be even worse soon – here comes the gold baboon, brandishing a stick," Blaise hissed. Indeed, Lockhart had run onto the field, waving his wand like a lunatic. "I fear for Potter's future."

* * *

"That was a good game, Draco," Artemis congratulated his friend.

"Thanks."

They were stopped by Professor Snape. "Mr. Fowl. Mr. Malfoy. You were involved planning the game, correct? Can you confirm that there were no actions on the Slytherin team's part on the Bludger?"

"Yes, sir. The only thing we planned were the actual maneuvers from the Chasers. Hexing a Bludger was never part of the plan," Artemis stated truthfully.

"Very well. I shall see you later, then?" And Professor Snape sauntered off.

"You didn't, did you?" Draco asked.

Artemis shook his head. "Of course not. My strategies were good enough to help the team win without cheating. That would have been overkill."

"Good," Draco said, "because I would have hated to win if we cheated. It's just not a real victory that way, you know? I mean, we're supposed to be Slytherins and everything, but that doesn't mean we need to cheat...we can win by pure skill, too."

* * *

_The next day_

"Right, spit it out, Potter – what is it?" Blaise said, annoyed at having his lunch disrupted.

"A student's been Petrified," he said. "Colin Creevey – I spent the night in the hospital wing because Lockhart messed up my arm (_Why am I not surprised, _thought Artemis) and I was awake they carried him in. He was as stiff as a board; one of the teachers found him after hours, and that camera that he was always carrying around – the film was all melted and acrid."

"That is very interesting," Artemis said. "Obviously, he tried to take a picture of the attacker, or the attacker got in the way when he was trying to photograph something else, to have exposed the film to light. Therefore, who, or whatever it is, can both Petrify things and melt film."

"That's not all," Potter said. "When Professor Dumbledore saw it, he said that the Chamber of Secrets was really opened again."

"This is serious," Theodore murmured. "Whoever it is is targeting students now – it's just like what happened fifty years ago!"

"Déjà vu," Artemis muttered.

"So the Heir of Slytherin person is really serious, then," Blaise said. "The people targeted so far was Ms. Norris, who was the cat of a Squib, and Creevey, who was a Muggle-born. I bet those Bludgers were hexed by him, too – to off Potter before he could find out something more. Do you think this has something to do with You-Know-Who?"

"Just say his name already," Artemis snapped. "Voldemort. Voldemort. Voldemort. How hard can it be?"

"He's done terrible things –"

"And yet, I hardly feel threatened by a mere name. It is nothing without a body to be attached to. How scary is a word that rhymes with 'moldy shorts'?" This seemed to alleviate the tension slightly.

"Actually, no," Potter looked sheepish. "The Bludger was a sort of unrelated incident...the person who hexed the Bludger was actually some house-elf named Dobby who said he was trying to protect me from some great danger in Hogwarts. He thought that if he injured me enough, they'd send me home."

At this, Draco's eyes went wide. "Dobby? Did you say a house-elf named Dobby?" House elves, bound by their magic to serve humans? Oh, the People would definitely throw a fit.

"Yes…?"

"Oh, Merlin…" Draco muttered. "Don't get mad at me, but I know a house-elf named Dobby…"

"You mean it's _your_ house-elf?" Potter yelled. "So it was his fault that we've been through so much trouble this year! He was the one who closed the barrier to the platform on Ron and me, so we had to take the flying car, and now the Bludger!" The fight was escalating in a very amusing manner.

"Listen, I had nothing to do with it, all right? I wouldn't have told you if I did!" Draco protested.

"Maybe you didn't, but I'm sure by now that your father knows more than he wrote in that letter," Artemis said coldly. "You say Dobby was trying to 'protect' you by sending you home, Harry? That means that he knows something about a danger within Hogwarts, and it could very well be this right now - the Petrifications, the 'Chamber' and the 'Heir', the melted camera film...and if he knows, there's a chance that your father knows too, Draco. Write to him again – but be careful in how you word your questions. We want to squeeze every drop of information out of him."

* * *

_One week later_

"Hey, look! They're starting a dueling club!" Theodore said excitedly, pointing to a poster. "That sounds really cool! We should sign up!"

"Should we even bother going? I already like our private lessons," Draco said, arching an eyebrow, sounding bored. He had just finished his letter to his father, with help from Artemis, Theodore, and Blaise in wording it as diplomatically as possible. Artemis made it sound logical, Theodore made it pacifying, and Blaise put in the force that would compel Lucius Malfoy to answer. Sort of. In the end it was mostly Draco's, Artemis', and Theo's work.

"Might as well," Blaise remarked. "We might learn something new, and see how our skills match up with everyone else's."

"We could do that," Artemis said. "I'm just afraid that they'll put us with all of the other beginners, and it's pretty obvious that none of them are even close to our level, not with the lessons we've been getting from Professor Snape."

"It doesn't matter," Blaise said. "It's not like it's a mandatory thing. If it's too boring we could put up a fight and take it up to Professor Snape - I'm pretty sure he'd do anything for us. And if the other teachers override it, we could just quit and leave whenever we want to. We don't have to stay and waste our time. We're not really going to lose anything from this, and who knows? We might gain something, too."

"Fine...I suppose we could go..." Draco conceded, rolling his eyes. "But only because I'm curious."

"Naaah, admit it, Draco," Blaise smirked. "It was my awesome persuasive skills."

"Shut up."

* * *

Arriving in the room, Theodore thought aloud, "I wonder who's teaching."

"Perhaps Professor Snape," Draco suggested. "I've heard that Professor Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young, too, so if this was his idea it shouldn't be too bad. As long as it's not – oh, no…"

"Lockhart," they all groaned in unison. Sure enough, the peacock was strutting up to the platform (accompanied by several gasps of delight from the girls).

"Gather round, gather round!" he called. "It is my greatest delight to tell you that Professor Dumbledore has granted me his permission to start this dueling club, to train all of you to defend yourselves, as I have done on many occasions…"

Artemis normally did not resort to such unintelligent language, but at the moment, only _blah, blah, blah _could describe what Lockhart was saying. He turned around to leave, but then, Lockhart exclaimed, "…and now let me introduce you to my lovely assistant, Professor Snape!" (As if Professor Snape could be considered "lovely"…)

"He knows a tiny bit about dueling himself and has agreed to help me with a demonstration. Don't worry, though – you'll still have your Potions Master by the time I'm done with him!" Lockhart finished, flashing his teeth in a smile.

Professor Snape? Know just a _tiny_ bit about dueling?

"I was considering leaving at first, but now I want to stay," Draco hissed with glee.

"Ten galleons on Professor Snape!" Blaise yelled. Many of the Slytherins (and boys from the other houses as well) began to snicker. Their Head of House's lips curled into a sneer. Lockhart just brushed it off with a chuckle.

"Well, we'll see the outcome, won't we? But, moving on…first, we bow." Lockhart swept his arm in a ridiculously flamboyant gesture and bowed until his head nearly touched his knee. Professor Snape, on the other hand, stood like a statue and jerked his chin irritably. They held their wands in front of them, like in a fencing tournament. "This is the acceptable combat position," Lockhart chose to inform the masses, as if they didn't know that already. "On the count of three, we will both cast our spells. Neither will be aiming to kill, of course."

"Don't be too sure," Blaise muttered out of the corner of his mouth, gesturing to the absolutely murderous face of Professor Snape. Those that heard him began laughing, although Lockhart, as usual, ignored them.

"One…two…three!"

"Expelliarmus!" yelled Professor Snape, and with a bang and a flash of red light, Lockhart was thrown back into the opposite wall, and his wand flew out somewhere into the crowd. There was much cheering from the male population, and obnoxious hooting and sneers from the Slytherin side of the room. Lockhart, in response, tottered back to his feet, still swaying, and began to comment on how what Professor Snape was trying to do was pretty _obvious _and that he just let him win.

"Amazing. That's one slippery frog," Artemis commented drily.

* * *

They were then split up into pairs – Lockhart obviously did not want to lose again – and began to practice the disarming spell. Pretty soon, wands were flying all over the room.

"This is boring. We're just learning the same spell over and over. It's just who's faster, that's all," Draco muttered.

Suddenly, Blaise's mouth twisted into a smirk. "Wait, guys. I have an idea. This is totally going to spice things up." Before any of the others could respond, he had raised his hand, and with a simpering, whining voice that was completely out of character, he called out, "Professor Lockhart! Oh, Professor Lockhart! Can you help us?"

"Blaise, what are you doing!" Draco hissed.

"Just watch," he responded, with an evil leer on his face. All of a sudden, Artemis felt slightly afraid. Blaise, despite all of his normal obnoxiousness, was in Slytherin House for a reason…and they were going to find out what reason.

Lockhart swaggered over, with great flourishing and flaunting that could make a veteran sailor seasick. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"Oh, Professor Lockhart," Blaise whined, like he was some love-sick preteen, "can you teach us about more dueling? What would we do against a greater wizard like you?" The general population, which had previously been focusing on individual dueling, had now turned to look at the new scene. Some were giggling at Blaise's obviously fake statement about Lockhart being a "greater wizard."

Lockhart, quite depressingly, did not detect any of the sarcasm. With his enormous ego swelling even more, Lockhart puffed out his chest and asked, "Would you like a demonstration, young man?"

"Oh, yes please!"

Artemis had to admit, the kid was a good actor. Just what was Blaise planning to do?

Blaise and Lockhart bowed to each other, and Lockhart attempted the same thing as he had done with Professor Snape. "One…two…three!"

"Snapify!" Blaise yelled.

They were still aching from laughter long after the man had fled the room, clutching his greasy, transfigured hair and howling like a banshee.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so filler chapter, I know. But at least it was funny, right?**

**By the way, I apologize for whatever geek speak appears throughout the chapter (and probably the rest of the series). But that's how Artemis talks. Because he's a genius and has to apply science and mathematics to just about everything he witnesses. At least, I'm pretty sure it's Artemis, the character, and not the nerdy fanfiction author who has nothing better to do than try to sound smart over the internetweblulz.  
**


	7. Accusation

**Happy holidays, guys! I hope you're all relaxed and having fun and going on vacation and stuff...because I'm not. SATs are in January, and you know what that means! **

**Asian parents. :P  
**

**But I still love them because they're awesome. I'm so spoiled. Best part about being the youngest child.  
**

**Happy Christmas, Hannukah, Kwanzaa, New Year, Birthday and whatever other holiday I forgot to mention, to Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, Brother, Auntie and Uncle #1-13, Cousins #1-57...and to all a good night.  
**

**(Hon-_ney!_ Put more jacket on! Is cold outside!)**

* * *

"That was pure genius, Blaise!" Theodore guffawed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "You, sir, are one-hundred-percent evil. And I salute you."

"I'm not evil, Lockhart's just incompetent!" Blaise said in return, still snickering.

There had been some questioning at first (for formal matters), but Professor Snape had intervened on their behalf, and the four boys had gotten away scot-free.

"It was not any form of dark magic or purpose attack that should render punishment," their teacher had said in blatant defense. "I believe Mr. Zabini wanted some extraneous tutoring from Professor Lockhart, and, in the process of his training, accidentally performed some light transfiguration that his coach was too slow to counter."

No one seemed to want to argue. Actually, it was quite the contrary - all of the teachers seemed quite pleased (except for Lockhart, who was still wailing inside his room.) What was even more amusing was that Professor McGonagall had awarded Blaise ten points "for performing an exceptional transfiguration" (even though she normally seemed to dislike him - probably because of his attitude). "Unfortunately, he'll probably call _me _up to fix his hair because he doesn't know a thing about it," she had muttered.

* * *

"Say, Artemis, do you want to go watch Quidditch practice?"

"Actually, no. I need to go back to the library – I promised Potter and Company that I would help them with their research. Just tell Flint that they need to work on their defensive movements more."

"All right, we'll do that."

They broke off, and his friends headed to the Quidditch field, while Artemis headed to the library. True, this case had not affected him just yet, but Artemis was well aware of the consequences if he simply sat back and allowed the attacks to continue.

Artemis was still somewhat confused about the entire mystery with the Chamber of Secrets and the Petrifications. Hopefully, Granger would be able to find something on who got expelled fifty years ago. He broke into a run – _if we find out who, that will be the missing piece to the puzzle_, he thought excitedly.

He was moving so fast that he didn't notice what was on the ground in front of him. His foot caught on something hard, like stone, and he went flying across the tiled corridor, landing in a very undignified heap on the ground. Picking himself up, Artemis turned around to glare at whatever had tripped him – and froze in his tracks.

There, on the ground, lying as still as a marble sculpture, was Justin Finch-Fletchley – and the ghost of Nearly Headless Nick, who was also frozen in mid-air. Both of their eyes were wide open, and stared forward, unseeing, as if they had been killed by fright alone.

Artemis gasped.

That made two more victims for - whatever or whoever the Heir was.

Artemis scrambled to his feet and was about to go find Professor Snape, hoping that his Head of House could use his authority for his defense, when suddenly, a loud voice above him screeched, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! THERE'S BEEN AN ATTAAAAAACK!"

It was Peeves. Artemis looked up in horror – the entire school would see him here now –

"What's going on?" Potter, Weasley, and Granger had rushed out of the library. Artemis pointed, and they stepped back, quite terrified. Before anyone could do anything, a crowd had already formed, and stared at the bodies – and Artemis – in silent horror.

Argus Filch broke past the lines. Again. "YOU! Caught in the act! I knew it was you, this entire time, you slippery little snake!" he shouted.

Peeves began flying around, singing, "It's Fowl, he's foul, he likes a good scare / And look at him now – it's Slytherin's Heir!"

Artemis rolled his eyes. He would have been annoyed at the poltergeist's atrocious attempt at rhyme and meter had he not been so afraid.

Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape arrived on the scene and looked at the wildly screaming Filch and the still singing Peeves. "It wasn't me," Artemis protested dumbly. Where had his wits gone?

_They are here..._

No, no, no, no, not that voice again! Artemis closed his mind and tried to think clearly. So what if his impeccable logic and undeniable language skills had abandoned him? He could still make a case for himself...right?

"Argus, calm yourself," Professor Dumbledore said sternly. "Artemis, if you please."

Artemis stole a glance at Professor Snape. He knew that Professor Dumbledore was a fair man, and wouldn't automatically accuse him of being guilty like Argus Filch had, but still...there were quite a few things related to the case but unrelated to this specific attack that he didn't want the Headmaster to find out about.

"This is out of my hands now, Mr. Fowl," Professor Snape said worriedly. "Go with Professor Dumbledore."

Artemis had no other choice.

* * *

The flight of stairs leading to the Headmaster's office shouldn't have winded him like this, but by the time they had arrived in front of the stone gargoyle, Artemis' knees were just about ready to quit on him. Artemis preferred to think that it was due to the nervousness and stress, and not his sub-par athletic abilities. The year had barely started and this was already the second time he was up here.

"Chocolate Cauldrons," Professor Dumbledore said, keeping to his candy-themed passwords. It was amusing enough to alleviate the tension somewhat, but Artemis still didn't feel any better.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Artemis? Anything at all?" Dumbledore asked gently, sitting down at his desk.

_I can hear voices that no one else can, except for Harry Potter. I'm afraid of what is happening – I have my suspicions, but I don't know anything. For some reason, I don't think that things will end well._

"No, sir."

* * *

"Mr. Fowl, come with me, please," Professor Snape said curtly once he had exited the headmaster's office. They went to his quarters in the dungeons instead.

His tone was short, curt, and to the point. "Swear to me, now, that you have nothing to do with this."

"I swear," Artemis responded vehemently. Sure, he knew that what Professor Snape really meant was staying out of the way and letting the teachers handle things, but Artemis figured that it would be easier answer the question if he pretended that Professor Snape was asking him if he was the culprit or at least an accomplice.

Suddenly, there was a prickling sensation in the back of his mind, like a cold wind sweeping through his head, and for a second there, Artemis thought that the voice was about to come back. He yelped, and swayed, running out of the way. The sensation stopped. Artemis looked up at Professor Snape, who looked a bit shocked.

_He knew – he had something to do with this._

"What _was _that?" he asked, glaring at the Potions Master. Professor Snape sighed.

"My failed attempt at Legilimency," he said.

But he didn't elaborate.

And Artemis decided not to push him.

* * *

"Found anything yet?" he asked Granger.

"You won't like this…" she said. "I looked through the log several times! The only person who got expelled then was Hagrid!"

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "Hagrid, the Heir of Slytherin? Forgive me if I have my doubts."

"Exactly! That's why – oh, I don't know, Artemis. This is a dead end right here. How will we ever find out who the Heir is now? We already confronted Hagrid, and he said that one of the Prefects found him with one of his 'pets' in his third year, and accused it of being the monster that was attacking everyone. Dumbledore was the only one who believed his innocence."

"It seems as if he was framed," Artemis pondered. "Go visit him again. Find out what his 'pet' was and the identity of that prefect."

* * *

_A few days later, in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom_

Draco, Theodore, and Blaise were unable to be present for the meeting, so Artemis, Harry, Hermione, and Ron decided to carry on without them anyway.

"He had a pet acromantula named Aragog," Potter said. "And the prefect's name was Riddle – a Slytherin. He wasn't sure about the first name or how the other boy was like because he didn't know him very well, so we looked it up in the school records. The only Riddle we found was a Tom Marvolo Riddle, and he was a Slytherin Prefect and Head Boy during his time at Hogwarts. There's not much else."

"There is a chance that the Prefect was trying his best to catch the perpetrator and was only mistaken. However, for some reason I am fairly certain that this Riddle person is the one behind all of this. He's the only other suspect we have even the slightest connection to at the moment. He must have been pretty clever, back then – he got on everyone's good side, becoming a Prefect, so no one would suspect him," Artemis pointed out. "The question is how he can still be attacking people today - if he was a Prefect when the attacks happened fifty years ago, he should be over 65 years old right now, at least. I'm betting that Riddle isn't stupid enough to directly return back to Hogwarts, in case someone might recognize him."

"Maybe he's in disguise? Or controlling someone's mind?" Hermione suggested.

"The question is who these puppets are, if there are even any," Potter pointed out. "For all we know, he could be jumping around to divert suspicion."

"Why don't we ask Dumbledore about this?" Weasley asked. "He's sure to remember his students."

"We don't want to get involved, yet. Can't you find more background on him?" Artemis asked.

"We tried," Granger said. "But there's nothing on him – his family, his future, nothing. Tom Riddle was an orphan, and his parents are unknown. His name isn't even there in wizarding genealogy – apparently the Riddles were not a magical family. Shortly after he left Hogwarts, he disappeared off the face of the earth."

"What about the updates on the monster?" Artemis asked. "I'm pretty sure Slytherin wouldn't house a spider. His symbol _is _a snake, after all."

"Oh, yeah – a giant snake – that should do it. But I think we'd notice a giant serpent slithering around the halls, wouldn't we?" Weasley said sarcastically.

"A giant snake…Merlin's pants!" Granger suddenly yelled, jumping to her feet. "Wait one second – I've got to go to the library –"

" 'Merlin's pants'?" Weasley asked, incredulous. "Something must have really happened."

Granger returned with _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. She flipped to a page, threw the book in their faces, and said, "Read it!"

The passage was on a basilisk.

"_M.O.M. Classification: XXXXX_

"_The first recorded Basilisk was bred by Herpo the Foul, a Greek Dark Wizard and also the first recorded Parselmouth. Herpo the Foul had discovered after much experimentation that a chicken egg hatched beneath a toad would produce a gigantic serpent possessed of extraordinarily dangerous powers. _

_The Basilisk is a brilliant green serpent that may reach up to fifty feet in length, and is a direct cousin of the cockatrice. The male has a scarlet plume upon its head. Its body is completely covered in several thick layers of almost impenetrable scales; however, its eyes, gums and the inside of its mouth have no armor. Even so, these areas are not at all close to unprotected. It has exceptionally venomous fangs but its most dangerous means of attack is the gaze of its large yellow eyes. Anyone looking directly into these will suffer instant death, rendering the Basilisk almost invincible to anything. _

_If the food source is sufficient (the basilisk is highly carnivorous and will eat all mammals and birds and most reptiles), the serpent may attain a very great age. Herpo the Foul's Basilisk is believed to have lived for close to nine hundred years. Unlike its fellow reptiles, which are cold-blooded and dependent on warm weather, the Basilisk can survive in almost any climate or environment.  
_

_The creation of Basilisks has been made illegal since medieval times, although the practice is easily concealed by simply removing the chicken egg from beneath the toad when the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures comes to call. However, since Basilisks are uncontrollable except by Parselmouths, they are as dangerous to most dark wizards as to anybody else, and there have been no recorded sightings of Basilisks in Britain for at least four hundred years. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, and the crow of the rooster is known to be fatal to it."_

"What does a Basilisk have to do with this?" Weasley asked.

"Oh, Ron, you are so thick – don't you see? Slytherin's monster has got to be a basilisk – it's the only way! It fits all of the clues! It's a snake, which fits the entire 'Heir' thing, the spiders around the crime scene, running away, and someone killing Hagrid's roosters, which makes sense if you don't want the serpent to die, and it can kill you with its stare!"

"But the people didn't die," Potter pointed out. "Just Petrified."

"That," Granger said triumphantly, "Is because they didn't look _directly _into its eyes. Ms. Norris probably saw its reflection in the puddle of water in the corridor, though how all the water got there I'm not exactly sure. Colin Creevey saw it through the lenses of that camera of his when he tried to take a picture of it – which is why the film was burned. And Justin Finch-Fletchley probably saw it through Nearly Headless Nick. And though Nearly Headless Nick was the one who took the full force of the Basilisk's powers, he's a ghost and was already dead anyway, so it wouldn't have made a difference if he had looked it directly in the eye or not. The only other animal who can do this is the Basilisk's close relative, a cockatrice, I think, but a basilisk would make so much more sense, wouldn't it?"

"But how would it get around the castle without getting seen?" Potter asked. "Like Ron said, we'd be bound to notice a giant snake slithering around Hogwarts, wouldn't we? The only people who saw it are already Petrified, and even if you count Ms. Norris that's just four of them. And if the Basilisk Petrified or killed anyone who saw it, I'm pretty sure there would be much more people in the hospital wing by now."

Artemis had a sudden epiphany. "The plumbing! The Basilisk is probably traveling through the pipes all around the castle. It's why you're hearing whispers coming from the wall – that's the Basilisk."

Potter started. "Wait, then why can't anyone else hear?"

Artemis' blood ran cold. _Oh no. I shouldn't have said that..._

Granger looked pale. Even Weasley, who was normally confused about everything, looked scared as the gravity of that statement dawned on him.

"Of course…it's a snake…" Hermione whispered to herself. "Harry, are you a Parselmouth?"

"A what?" Potter looked confused.

"Have you ever talked to a snake before?" she clarified.

"Once…I was at the zoo and I set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley by accident. What?" he asked, at Weasley's look of terror. "I bet loads of people here can do it!"

"No, they can't," Weasley said. "This is bad, Harry, very bad."

"What?" Potter asked, getting frightened.

"Salazar Slytherin could speak the language of snakes – Parseltongue," Granger said. "That's why his symbol is a snake. And Parseltongue is only a hereditary trait. All of his descendants can speak it, but its limited to the bloodline in any other circumstances. It's all about the Heir of _Slytherin_ – whoever it is can speak to snakes, too, which is why they can release the basilisk upon the school."

"But I'm in Gryffindor! Salazar Slytherin can't be my ancestor."

"I don't know, Harry. He died hundreds of years ago. For all we know, you could be."

Potter was silent. But then, he said, "Well, what about Fowl? He can hear the voices, too!"

They turned to look at him. "That's right, Artemis. You can, too..."

Him? The Heir of Slytherin? No way. That wasn't possible. He wasn't behind the attacks, neither as the Heir or just some clueless accomplice - thanks to his eidetic memory, he still remembered everything he did from the beginning of the school year, and he was pretty sure that someone would have caught him sneaking out of bed at night. Then again, he really hadn't gone into much detail about his family tree as his father had only returned that summer and was still recovering from his time in Russia...

_No...you are not of those thieves...you come from something much greater..._

Well, that was a mild comfort.

Maybe telling Potter and his friends hadn't been such a good idea, after all. He swallowed. If he denied it, it would put him as a main suspect. It was better to agree with them, assuage their fears... "Yes. I heard the voices, too. However, I can tell you right now that I am innocent –"

"Prove it!" Weasley yelled. "You're a pureblood Slytherin – I bet that it was your ancestors, fifty years ago, wasn't it? And on Halloween in the corridor, you and your cronies – Malfoy wanting to apologize, yeah right! You probably did that and then joined up later –"

"Ronald!" Granger scolded. "You can't just jump to conclusions –"

"Why are you defending him?"

"Weasley!" Artemis yelled. They quieted down, and faced him. "It is very unwise to accuse the wrong people of a crime! The Heir of Slytherin is targeting Muggle-born students, and, as you know very well, my family, like yours, is considered a 'blood-traitor' family! Despite all of the evidence to the contrary, I am just as in the dark about the attacks as you are – otherwise, I would not be helping you in this investigation."

Weasley shut his mouth, but his face was still red. Artemis was forcibly reminded of Commander Root.

Then, Potter said, "So help us, then. We won't tell anyone right now because there isn't enough evidence – I'm sorry, Artemis, but you are still the prime suspect."

Interesting, how a few truthful words could be so haunting.

_It only takes a simple spell to silence someone…_

Artemis shut the voice inside the box again.


	8. Artemis the Hunter

**Hi everyone,**

**Once again, I apologize for the super late and irregular update. I honestly didn't plan for it to go this way, but it did...for the second week of my winter break I was stuck without computer access so I couldn't write anything, and when I finally got home school had already started. **

**It was one of those times when everything was just thrown onto me, and I just had too many things going on at once. To put it simply, I was just too busy with schoolwork, finals, end-of-semester projects (my district's school calendar system is weird and stupid; the semester ends in January), SAT testing, and my Gold Award project.  
**

**I'm really being earnest when I say I love you guys and I love this story, but it's just not on top of my list of priorities at the moment. So please, bear with me and my irregular updates. I return to this story every time I have even a little bit of free time. **

**My next update should come around the week after January 26th, and then we'll see from there. I'll try to keep the updates once every two weeks after the 26th (no promises), but don't expect the regular weekly updates again until after May, when AP testing and my Gold Award project is over. I know that's a really long time to wait, but I am honestly just too stressed right now. I just want to give you guys a heads-up so that you know what to expect from me.  
**

**Thanks for all of your support.  
**

* * *

Artemis was fuming.

He had accidentally backed himself into a checkmate because of this stupid case!

_They fear your power, for you have more strength than they can ever imagine…use that strength well…there's no time…no time…_

Those thoughts were even more persistent, and Artemis was finding it more difficult to control. And Artemis hated it, partly because it was disrupting his concentration, and partly because it seemed to know more than he did. But the voice had not really done anything in the past to try to hurt him, in a sense…it just annoyed him, and that served to distract him, which was not at all helpful in this case.

He knew that he was innocent, which gave him another reason to stop the Heir of Slytherin. Before, he had been curious – but now, it was to clear his own name. The Gryffindor Trio, whose members had been his close associates before, would regard him warily instead.

Bad rumors spread like wildfire – he could hear people whispering about him behind his back. To him, he was definitely the Heir of Slytherin. His intelligence, his behavior, and his House clearly said so. He was only glad that Potter and his friends hadn't told anyone about his gift – or curse – but it didn't help matters. Even the teachers were suspicious of him. Professor Snape, too, looked concerned, and seemed to doubt him, which hurt more than anything.

"Artemis, what's wrong?" Theodore asked.

Artemis sighed. "Apparently, I am the prime suspect now."

His eyes widened. "But it can't be you! You're innocent, aren't you, Artemis?" Well, there was at least one person who believed him.

"Yes. Yes I am. Which is why we will solve this case as soon as possible, to clear my name." _If only it were that simple._

"Why do they even think that?" How naïve was that child? Why was Theodore even in Slytherin House, anyway? To any other block-head, there couldn't be any reason why he was _not_ guilty.

Artemis buried his head in his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Call the others."

Once they were all in the dormitory (excluding Crabbe and Goyle, who were probably out trying to find something to eat) Artemis began talking.

He told them about the basilisk. About Slytherin. And, most importantly, about Tom Riddle.

"Find out more about him," Artemis ordered. "Especially you, Draco – ask Dobby. If he was trying to 'save' Potter's life, he must know about this somehow. There is nothing else life-threatening occurring this year except for the Chamber of Secrets fiasco. He has to listen to you, doesn't he? He will have to tell you, if your father will not."

They needed the information desperately.

* * *

Artemis sat on his bed with his legs crossed in a meditative position, fingers steepled and tucked underneath under his chin like he habitually did when he was either thinking or scheming. Right now, he was thinking, because the scheme was against _him_...and Artemis didn't like that at all.

He was Artemis Fowl. He was always two steps ahead. But that was a little difficult to do when one didn't even know where the track was or whom one was racing against.

_The gift of Parseltongue is hereditary…you're smart…figure it out…_

Was that why his father had refused to say anything? Was he the Heir of Slytherin? Surely not! The Heir of Slytherin was a different person – unless he had a crazy alter ego whom he had no idea existed and whom he had absolutely no control over whatsoever running around the school…no, that was impossible...

Artemis frowned and bit his lip, then cleared his mind, concentrating on what information he had so far. He weighed his options and calculated his moves carefully. It all came down to Tom Marvolo Riddle. There was something suspicious about the name alone. Artemis could not put his finger on what, though. Who was he? Artemis was going to hunt him down, because it was his fault that these incidents were all happening.

He was not the Heir of Slytherin. His instincts told him that. There was absolutely no way.

_The Heir of Slytherin, no. You are Artemis Fowl. You can do so much better than that._

But that still didn't explain the Parseltongue bit.

_You will find out in time…power and intelligence, no matter how much of it you have, can only take you so far. _

Funny that his mental advisor was saying this, even though it kept saying that there was no time.

_You're right…there's no time…no time…so you better use what power and intelligence you have now, before it's too late…_

Artemis frowned even more. The warnings to himself were annoying, and some didn't even make any sense. That was true. But as much as he hated to hear them, he had to admit that those warnings were correct.

This was probably what others always felt when they listened to him lecture them. That had to be it, Artemis reassured himself. It was his own instincts, talking. After all, he had more control over his mind than other people, and it was only a matter of time before he connected with his subconscious. Artemis decided that he didn't mind the voice, for now, because he had more important things to focus his time and energy on.

But once this fiasco was over, his subconscious would go back to the recesses of his mind and stay there.

Because it really was annoying.

_So you finally figured it out, hmmm? That's right, you've been arguing with yourself this entire time. I don't blame you, though. I can see you as well as everything you see. Now focus on getting this Heir of Slytherin guy, because he has no place in framing you for his petty crimes._

For some reason, Artemis couldn't shake the nagging thought that this subconscious part of him was just as good of a liar as his conscious mind.

_There's no time…_

* * *

_Draco_

December came, and Draco sat on his bed, facing his other roommates (save for Crabbe and Goyle, who were probably out bullying first-years or otherwise stuffing their faces somewhere). There was no progress on their part, although, quite thankfully, none on the Heir of Slytherin's part either.

His plan to ask Dobby had ultimately failed, when the elf refused to tell Draco anything.

"My father is the head of the house, and he forbade Dobby to say anything about the matter – not even to me," he reported. "Father always has the last say in everything. In any event, he told me – just ignore it and let the Heir do its work."

"That's nice. Someone wants all of the Muggle-born children to die off, apparently," Artemis responded.

"It's not my fault he thinks that way!" Draco protested.

"And what about you?" Artemis asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Well, since Granger…I don't exactly agree," the boy said nervously. "I used to think she was an annoying know-it-all but she doesn't deserve to die. No one does. Anyway, she _is _really smart and she's not so overbearing anymore...I mean, she's the only reason half of our year is passing History of Magic class right now."

Draco froze as Artemis observed his face. Finally, the other relented, and sighed, looking away. It was then that he realized that Artemis had been searching him for a lie or an otherwise hidden truth. Draco was glad that Artemis had failed in finding a lie, because he really _wasn't_ lying. He honestly knew nothing, and it would be useless to push any further.

"My concern is, how does this Heir know who's Muggle-born and who's not?" Theodore asked. "What if he makes a mistake and hurts some other student who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time? What if it's just the basilisk running around randomly? It could be anyone if we don't know who it is! For all we know, all of the Muggle-born students who were Petrified were just there because of some spooky coincidence!"

That was a frightening thought. What if Theodore was right? Technically, no one was safe - a basilisk could kill anybody, Muggle-born or not. The boys, Draco included, looked at Artemis expectantly, as if he could solve the problem. How could they protect themselves from this supposedly indestructible beast, which they couldn't even look directly in the eye?

Artemis, apparently, did have an idea, but it was not a very good one.

"We could carry a mirror around," Artemis suggested. "Use a pocket mirror to look around corners before you move. That way, if a basilisk _is _there, you'll only be Petrified, because you won't be looking it directly in the eye. It's better than dying – after all, right now, the Petrified people in the hospital wings are the only ones truly safe from the basilisk. They can't exactly look the basilisk in the eye, or get bitten and poisoned, since their nervous systems and muscles are frozen, and it's not like they can be Petrified again."

"A pocket mirror?" Blaise whined. "Is that the best you can come up with?"

"Latch yourself onto a girl with one if you think you're too 'manly'," Artemis snapped in reply. "If you want to die, then fine."

Blaise gulped, but shut his mouth.

"Are you sure, Artemis?" Theodore asked uncertainly.

"I don't have any other way to help. Nothing can escape the deadly gaze of that serpent, whether one is dead or alive. Even an object that has never been living before is not safe," Artemis said dejectedly. "After all, Colin Creevey's camera film _did_ melt when he tried to take a picture of the basilisk."

"Okay. I'll try that," Theodore said, still uncertain.

* * *

In a twist of cruel irony, Theodore Nott, who had been worried about someone other than a Muggle-born would be attacked, was the first person who was not Muggle-born to be Petrified.

He had been found in front of the haunted girls' bathroom on the second floor, with a mirror that he had borrowed from Marie Chevalier in his hand, having taken Artemis' advice to heart. The girl had gone looking for him, to ask for her mirror back, and discovered him in that state.

His arm was still frozen halfway up, and his mouth was hanging open. On his face, unlike the other victims, however, there was no fear or shock, but an expression of awe.

"He seemed to be expecting it," was the general consensus.

(What he was trying to do, though, was the real question that Artemis and his friends were trying to answer.)

It had given the entire school a new outlook – it was no longer just a matter of blood purity. Theodore was a pureblooded Slytherin. And yet, he was stuck in the hospital wing with all of the other Muggle-born students.

"NO ONE IS SAFE!" Peeves howled.

This attack did not put Artemis off the hook, however. Rather, the incident sharpened it, if anything. He was the only Slytherin who did not care about blood – was he steamrolling over his own friends just to get his "work" done?

Even the normally cold and stoic Professor Snape seemed worried. Not even the Slytherins were safe. He had pulled Artemis over many times, although he never attempted Legilimency again. (He would have to research that once this was all over.)

"Please be careful, Mr. Fowl. I know it is not your nature to let things blow over, so investigate this case if you must, but don't get yourself killed in the process – please." Exactly what he had heard from his parents.

Only Draco, Blaise, Harry, Ron, and Hermione believed that he would not have done something so terrible. The accusations made Artemis absolutely furious. He could do nothing but sit there and grind his teeth, and even then, people would glare at him, as though he was planning a new devious scheme.

With the Gryffindor team back on his side again, Artemis found at least one aspect of his life slightly easier. And things could be worse, he supposed - if the Ministry of Magic and the Aurors began tailing him, too, it would be extremely inconvenient. They wouldn't find anything incriminating enough to pin the blame of being the Heir of Slytherin on him (because he sure wasn't going to go around saying that he could talk to snakes - he had learned his mistake the first time) - but the authorities would definitely find a way to access evidence of his...other...escapades...

Artemis only knew that it had something to do with a basilisk, attacks from fifty years ago (accurate records of those incidents were for some reason ridiculously difficult to find), and possible Lucius Malfoy, as Dobby the house-elf knew something about it.

Otherwise, though, he still had no leads.

It was infuriating. Even worse than Lockhart. And that was saying something. Out of everyone in the school, only Draco and Blaise believed him, and for that he was grateful.

* * *

The letter he received from his father later only made things worse.

_Dear Artemis,_

_We have heard news of the attacks going on at Hogwarts. Please be careful – with the Headmaster gone and the attacks being randomized, you could be next._

_Swear to me that you will have nothing to do with it._

_Father _

Now his own family, his own blood, was frightened. At least they didn't know about the circulating stories, about him being the Heir of Slytherin. His parents just wanted to stay safe – but how could he sleep well when there were ghostly whispers of accusation floating around?

Things were getting personal. Artemis had to work quickly if he was to outsmart the Heir of Slytherin.

He was Artemis Fowl the Second! He would let no one run circles around him like this.

Artemis prowled all over the school for any signs of Tom Riddle. What he had found was a trophy for "special services to the school" – most likely for "catching" Hagrid as the Heir of Slytherin.

"I told my father about the rumors, and he just laughed in my face," Draco said. "He said that there was no way a blood traitor like you could be the Heir of Slytherin. I wish those gossipers would listen to him, for once."

"Theo's father got involved, too," Blaise informed him. "We were spying last night – Mr. Nott was furious that his son had been a victim. The Ministry of Magic just took Hagrid to Azkaban, because they still think that he's the criminal here, and they've ousted Dumbledore, too!"

"You are not serious!" Artemis said, stunned.

It was true, though, and Artemis knew it. The familiar, aged face of their Headmaster was absent from the podium that very morning. All of the teachers seemed nervous – except for Lockhart, of course, who was completely clueless, airheaded, and self-absorbed as usual.

"Lucius Malfoy was there. Everyone on the Board of Governors signed a paper – they thought that he wasn't doing enough to protect the school."

"That is ridiculous!" Artemis said. "Do they _want _a repeat of fifty years ago? With Dumbledore gone, people will _die_ next!"

"That's exactly what Hagrid said. They didn't listen, of course," Blaise scoffed.

"This is extremely suspicious, you know? Your father, Draco, of all people, should know better…" What if Draco's father had something to do with this? Draco's father…and their house-elf…knew more than they should about the matter. He knew how to read Draco well enough to know the boy was innocent; Draco simply listened to his father's beliefs out of necessity. Artemis couldn't exactly blame him. He hoped.

"You don't think _I'm _the Heir of Slytherin, do you?" Draco asked, blanching.

"No. I can tell you know nothing about it – and I know a lie when I see one. It is your father that I am more concerned about. I do not think that Lucius Malfoy is involved directly, but he could be an accomplice."

"My father hates Dumbledore," Draco supplied helpfully. "He's always complaining about him being a Muggle lover."

"Then this could be some sort of plot to expel Dumbledore from his position as Headmaster," Artemis reasoned. "Whatever it is, it's working."

By the end of the discussion, Blaise seemed quite angry, and Draco seemed rather sick.

* * *

_Tom Riddle._

_Will have to die._

_In the most painful way possible that I can think of._

His mental state was getting...a little bit more violent. But he could care less. Artemis stomped his way down the hall, caught up in his own thinking. He collided with someone, who let out a small squeak.

Backing up and glaring his infamous death glare (Artemis saw no reason to even make an attempt at masking his frustrations an anger anymore; it wasn't as if being nice would help his situation in the least), he saw that it was the Weasley girl from the bookstore. She was carrying a large pile of books in her tiny arms, which came spilling out of her grip when she had bumped into him. "I'm sorry!" she shrieked nervously, and hastily gathered all of her belongings again, running off.

She seemed even more jittery than before – at first, Artemis simply thought it was because she was an insecure first-year who had some very unpleasant prior encounters with older students (or maybe she had been warned against Slytherins by her brothers…), but the problem seemed more severe. Her hair was messy and there were dark circles underneath her eyes – some deeper reason was bothering her.

Artemis decided to ignore it and move on, as he had problems of his own to worry about, problems more important than the emotional instability of a silly, immature little girl. So, he rolled his eyes, sent the little girl's retreating form one last glare, and stepped forward – onto something.

It was a book – the Weasley girl had probably dropped it.

He turned, intending to do at least one nice thing for once since this entire incident had started by calling her back, but she had already disappeared. She was apparently faster than she looked – he was surprised her little feet could carry her entire weight, let alone all of her school supplies. Artemis intended to return the little brown book later, when the inscription on the front cover caught his eye:

**T. M. RIDDLE**

So.

What did we have here?

He smirked, and tucked the object into his bag instead.

"Artemis the hunter. I hunted you."

Artemis was about to turn around and leave, when the voice whispered inside his mind again:

_And when one hunts, one kills._

Artemis shuddered.


	9. My Name Is Tom

**Hi guys! I'm not dead yet!**

**(But I'm almost dead...ugh...finals week and then SATs the day right after. Yeah, signing up for the January 26th date wasn't exactly the smartest idea.)  
**

**Updates will still be slow, but I will try my best. I just hope to goodness that I have the same teachers for the spring semester because there's a few really mean teachers who give out tons and tons of stupid work. There's always one of them in every darn school.  
**

* * *

After discovering the diary, Artemis had much to look forward to when he returned home over the break. He could always ask his parents about his heritage later, but this…this was more important.

_You'll need your past soon enough…but there's no time…_

It was their first "real" Christmas together as a family, with his father back. They had all made their pledges to spend more time together as a family. Artemis was somewhat appreciative, but he couldn't fully enjoy the holiday when the mystery was perpetually nagging at him in the back of his mind.

Artemis decided to compromise – he spent the days celebrating with his parents, and solved the mysteries under his covers at night. Opening the diary, Artemis lay on his stomach on his bed and flipped through it. The pages were all blank – supposedly. But if it had been a truly blank diary, it wouldn't have been around for so long.

His mother and father would probably confiscate it if they found it in his possession – he had "promised" them that he wouldn't go looking for trouble. (Of course, he left several major loopholes so that he would not exactly be lying when he went to investigate the Chamber of Secrets).

"Specialis Revelio!" Nothing.

"Aparecium!" Not invisible ink, then, either.

There had to be some way to see all of the words that had been written in the diary so far. Ginny Weasley had been communicating with it somehow, that was for sure. Artemis had a tiny suspicion that in the end, nothing would work except for physically writing in it...but he wanted to see if he couldn't find another way first. Physically writing in it was a bit risky. Decoding the diary went on for many nights, with Artemis trying every single spell he could think of.

But it was all in vain, and Artemis knew that he didn't have much time left until he had to go back to Hogwarts. Finally, Artemis decided to steel his mind for all it was worth - and it was worth quite a bit, thank you - and feed the diary some ink. Dipping a quill in an ink pot (the diary, apparently, didn't accept pencil graphite too well - silly, backwards, medieval wizard traditions), carefully trying not to stain his bed sheets, Artemis wrote, "_Hello._"

The words disappeared, fading into the parchment as though it was a giant sponge, soaking up the words. New words appeared in their place. "_Hello. My name is Tom Riddle. Who are you?_"

As if he was going to use his own name like a complete fool. _"My name is Harry Potter." _It was the first name he could come up with, and taking too long to answer would probably be suspicious.

"_Hello, Harry. How did you come across this diary?"_

So the diary could communicate to those that wrote in it. There was always the slightest chance that this was merely a programmed answer and artificial intelligence - which would have been Artemis' first thought had he been living in the Muggle world - but as this was magic, probably not. In any other circumstance, Artemis would have called himself crazy, but for this, he would make an exception.

The most likely explanation was that the diary was a sentient being that could think for itself. How, Artemis did not know, but it probably wasn't a good reason - even in the Wizarding world, with its magically moving kitchen appliances and screaming books from the Restricted section of the library, nonliving things could not and did not think on their own - not without some sort of dark intervention.

Still, he would humor this Tom Riddle, and pretend he knew nothing. If the book had the same level of intelligence as an average human, it would not be able to see through his deception, his facade that he actually trusted this...this _thing._

"_Someone dropped it in the middle of a hallway."_

"_I see."_

"_Tom, what does the 'M' in your name stand for?" _He already knew, of course.

"_Marvolo. It was my grandfather's name."_

Artemis made a mental note to look up a Marvolo more carefully - if Riddle was telling the truth about where he got his middle name from, then his lineage could be traced more effectively. Marvolo had to be some sort of wizard...Artemis couldn't imagine any Muggles naming their own child something so unusual and vaguely mythology-based.

"_Were your parents wizards? No offense, but 'Riddle' doesn't ring a bell."_

"_No offense taken. My father was a Muggle – my magic comes from my mother's side of the family." _Interesting, but that was not as important as…

"_Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"_

He waited for a reply.

"_Of course I did. In my day, we were told that it was a legend, that it did not exist. Of course, it was a lie – in my fifth year, __the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me not to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned.__"_

"_Who was it? There have been four attacks – five, technically, because one of the attacks involved two people. Or actually, one boy, and a ghost. I'm afraid that the attacker is just choosing randomly by now – one person who got Petrified was a pureblood Slytherin,"_ Artemis replied.

"_That sounds very serious. Very well – I can show you, if you like. You don't have to take my word for it. My memories are preserved within these pages, and I can take you to the one of the night I caught him."_

It was very well done, Artemis decided, but it was not enough to fool him. This Tom Marvolo Riddle…he was clever, all right. He knew just how to charm people into trusting him – giving out just enough information to entice and interest a curious soul, and then being shy and reasonable enough to not sound forceful. " '_I can show you, if you like. You don't have to take my word for it.'_ "

Yeah, right.

But seeing Riddle's viewpoint on the case would be interesting.

"_Okay."_

Artemis felt himself being sucked into the diary.

* * *

_He landed on solid ground._ Interesting.

Artemis could still feel a part of himself lying on his bed, safely in his room, and yet his reality seemed to be here, wherever he was. This out-of-body traveling experience was a rather odd, though enlightening sensation, in Artemis' opinion.

He looked around.

_The room that he was currently in was exactly the same as Professor Dumbledore's office, except that the decorations were different. There were also less portraits._

Artemis realized that the spot where the previous headmaster's face had hung was empty.

_The person in missing picture was instead, sitting behind the desk. Professor Armando Dippet – that was his name, wasn't it? Of course, this was fifty years ago, and Professor Dumbledore would not have been headmaster yet. Professor Dippet just stared in front of him, not noticing Artemis._

That was when Artemis understood, based on what he knew about his current situation – it was a memory, not going back in time. He was just a being, out of place here. A bit like watching a movie, but using one of those virtual reality gaming consoles that every single spoiled, immature, teenage, Muggle child just _had _to have.

_A boy entered the office. _Artemis assumed that he was Tom Riddle. He looked to be around fifteen or sixteen, which would fit Riddle's story that it took place in his fifth year, and his green, Slytherin robes had a badge pinned to it. That was also sensible, considering Riddle's tale.

Artemis was mildly impressed – Tom Riddle could easily be a classic Slytherin. He supposed that many people would describe him with the typical phrase, "tall, dark, and handsome." His deep brown hair was neatly styled, for someone who lived in the 1940's, anyway, and his even features, shapely nose, and strong jaw – they all blended perfectly well on his face. No one would suspect such a model, well-behaved child of being a criminal.

He and Tom Riddle looked alike, Artemis decided. In a completely humble manner, of course. This had nothing to do with looks - it was just a description meant for the benefit of the audience.

(_Yeah, sure._)

(Shut it, you - and stop abusing the fourth wall so much. Honestly. Now let's get back to the story and stop these random interruptions and tangents, shall we?)

_Professor Dippet looked up from his desk. "My boy, Tom, what can I do for you?"_

_"Professor Dippet…about my question…Are you sure I am not allowed to stay over the summer?"_

_The old man sighed, and shook his head. "I am sorry, Tom, but we can't afford to let you stay here. With all of these attacks, and that girl that just got killed…They may just close down the school altogether."_

_Tom Riddle looked quite shocked and worried. _Obviously, he didn't want his magical education to end. Did he not like his home? Artemis knew that he was not revealing everything he knew.

_"Professor Dippet, what if someone were to catch the person who's doing this? If they were caught, surely the school would be opened again?"_

_The headmaster looked surprised. "Tom, do you know something about it, then?" he asked gleefully. _Of course he would be, if one's school was about to be closed down and one was presented a way to prevent that.

_But Tom just stared at him with dark, calculating eyes. "No, sir."_

It was just like the "No" that Artemis had given Professor Dumbledore a few weeks ago.

_Tom Riddle then turned and left._ Artemis could feel the memory pulling him after the boy, and followed him.

_"Tom, what are you doing up at this time of night?" a man asked._ Artemis found something familiar about the man…of course! It was Professor Dumbledore – simply younger. Artemis had grown so used to the ancient vision of the man. His silver hair and beard were still auburn (although long and styled in the same way) and his wizened face was not yet wrinkled.

_"Nothing, Professor Dumbledore," Tom said innocently. Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes pierced him calculatingly – they were cold and thoughtful, not the twinkling look which accompanied the amused smile that Artemis was so used to seeing._

Clearly, Professor Dumbledore and Tom Riddle had a bit of a turbulent history, because warranting that sort of behavior from the current (well, technically, future) Headmaster did not come without a good reason. Especially since Dumbledore was the type of guy who was always trying to give out second chances.

After all, Dumbledore still chose to give even Artemis himself a chance and treat him like the other students even among rumors of his notorious exploits (some were merely rumors, but most were even worse than the story told).

_Dumbledore continued staring at Tom as he said, "Then I must ask you to return to your dormitory. Be careful, Tom…it is not a good idea to roam about alone at night."_ Then, he walked away, but from his gait, Artemis could easily tell that while Professor Dumbledore had physically turned his back on Tom Riddle, he would never for a single second metaphorically turn his back on such a dangerous individual.

Artemis wondered where someone like Riddle was now, and why he would be returning to Hogwarts...

He had never before heard about someone named Tom Riddle.

_Riddle stood there for a long time in the same spot, watching the future headmaster disappear into the distance, before some footsteps sounded. Following the noise, both Artemis and Tom ran until they ended up in front of a cupboard in an abandoned corridor._

_It was a younger version of Rubeus Hagrid – still lots of thick, frizzy hair, though no beard had yet developed. Even as a schoolboy, he towered over both Riddle and Artemis. He was trying to conceal something in a box. A mysterious rustling and clicking sound was emanating from it._

_"I'm sorry, Hagrid – but I have to turn you in," Tom Riddle said. Hagrid whipped around._

_"No, yeh can'! Aragog's innocent! Innocent, I tell yeh!" boy-Hagrid protested._

_"I must, Hagrid – the girl's parents will be here tomorrow and they may close down the school if the perpetrator isn't caught. Please, Hagrid, be sensible –"_

_"No, yeh have it all wrong! Aragog wouldn' never! I never –"_

_"I know you didn't do it on purpose, Rubeus," Tom said. "But the fact remains that monsters just don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for a midnight walk and it happened upon a snack –"_

_Hagrid still protested violently. Not a smart idea._

_Riddle pulled out his wand and with one quick movement, had unlocked the box. Immediately, the largest, hairiest spider that Artemis had ever seen sprang out of the box, scuttled over Riddle, and vanished into the night –_

Another swirl of light, and then Artemis was back on his bed.

* * *

So that was the lie that Riddle had been telling everyone. That Aragog – some type of spider, probably an acromantula – was the beast of Slytherin, and that Hagrid was the Heir. He had only sealed the Chamber and "caught" someone because he didn't want to go home…

Artemis felt angry enough to kill Riddle, but decided against it. He still needed proof of his innocence, after all. Artemis picked up the quill and began writing again. _"Why did you want to stay at Hogwarts over the summer in the first place?"_

The response took a while. Finally, Riddle seemed to relent, deciding that Artemis, a.k.a. Harry, was not a threat, and replied, _"I live(d) in a Muggle orphanage. It was a rather boring place, and no one really understood me."_

"_I grew up in the Muggle world, too," _Artemis wrote in response, hoping that being sympathetic would allow him to wheedle more information out of Riddle.

"_It's not very spectacular, is it?"_

"_Magic is far more interesting." _Actually, Muggle technology had its perks, too, but he had to tell Riddle what he wanted to hear in order to get any more out of him.

"_I think that it is an amazing thing." _He wasn't going anywhere with this. Time to drop the bomb.

"_But not amazing enough to detect a liar when they see one, right?"_

The writing stopped. _"Excuse me?"_

"_Do you really expect me to believe that a spider is the beast of Slytherin and that a half-giant-troll like _Hagrid _is the Heir of Slytherin? It was you, wasn't it? You framed him and stopped the mischief because you felt that you were too good to be sent back to a measly orphanage, isn't it right?"_

There was no answer.

Of course there wouldn't be.

Maybe he had been a little too straightforward in his accusations. He threw the diary into his trunk, and sealed it properly for good measure.

He knew that Tom Riddle was the Heir now, and he knew that the diary had something to do with it. You couldn't exactly hide a concrete object or a solid, moving person in there. It could think for itself, however, which was disturbing – what if it could think for someone else as well? How would it get out –

Weasley. Not the annoying boy that was friends with Potter, but the youngest one. The one that had been carrying the book.

She had had the diary. What if she was writing in it, too? What if it had somehow gotten ahold of her and forced her to do all of these atrocious crimes? That girl – Ronald Weasley's sister – must have been writing in it all year…feeding it with her little stories on daily life.

How would she have gotten her hands on it in the first place, anyway?

Artemis' eyes widened with sudden realization. That day in the bookstore, when Lucius Malfoy had been mocking her – he had taken one of her books, hadn't he? That was probably how he knew about it – how Dobby the house-elf knew –

"_Take it – it's the best your father can give you." _

Hadn't the textbook been returned, slightly thicker than before? What if he had been the one who hid the diary in there – as a plot to get rid of Dumbledore? And what relation did he have to Tom Riddle – how did he even get the diary in the first place?

Artemis glowered at the innocent diary in his trunk. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Wait – Tom Marvolo Riddle –

Artemis grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote the name down, staring at it. Then, he (metaphorically) smacked himself in the forehead.

Merlin, how could he have been so stupid as to not notice that before?

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Quickly, he crossed out letters and wrote them down underneath.

XOM XAXXXXX RIDXLX / VOLDEMORT

XXM XAXXXXX XIXXXX/ LORD VOLDEMORT

XXX XXXXXXX XXXXXX/ I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Artemis stared at the letters, still wet with ink, glistening in front of him. This wasn't good. This wasn't just some coincidence.

Winter break ended tomorrow. He had to tell Harry Potter – and fast.


	10. Exposing Lucius

**Okay, well, finals week and SATs are over for me...I can relax a little more now.  
**

**I was planning to combine this one with the next chapter but I felt kind of bad for making you guys wait any longer so...here's what I have so far to occupy the wait.**

* * *

_Winter break at the Malfoys'_

"Father, are you sure you do not know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?" Draco asked.

"For the last time, Draco, no, I do not. I have already told you everything I know," his father snapped.

His mother was more forgiving. "Darling, there is no need to be angry," she said. "I am sure our son is simply curious."

"Why he is still curious is a mystery," Lucius growled. "I've told you not to go sticking your nose into others' business."

Clearly, this wasn't going to get him anywhere. Time for a few Slytherin tactics.

"I apologize, Father," he said formally. "With the knowledge of Theodore Nott's attack –"

"That child brought it upon himself," his father scoffed. "He went looking for trouble, walking around corners with that mirror. He was always a silly child – I've told his father numerous times that he was raising his offspring too softly."

Draco showed no emotion, but on the inside, he was burning. He knew that his father had a tendency to act a bit cold and arrogant at times – but was that really necessary? Now, his father was actually cruelly rebuking a good family friend, whose son was currently lying Petrified in the hospital wing at school.

And the entire thing at the beginning of the year, with the fight with Mr. Weasley and the argument with Artemis' father in the bookstore in Diagon Alley had already unnerved him and made him doubt some of the things that he had been taught as a child. Of course he still respected his father; that was expected from any son. And it wasn't as if his father was abusive; on the contrary, Draco knew himself to be a spoiled child (though his Lucius Malfoy wasn't as overprotective as Narcissa, thank goodness). But just because that was so didn't mean that he had to agree with every single cotton-picking thing his father thought, right? Right?

Heck, other boys his age blatantly argued with their parents all the time. Draco knew better than to talk back rudely to an authoritative parental figure. But it couldn't hurt to deviate from schooled thought every once in a while and think for himself. It wasn't as if he was being rebellious. Being a mindless sheep and taking everything he was told at face value, for granted, well, that just didn't suit him.

Speaking of Artemis' father, hadn't he disappeared off the face of the earth two years ago? And yet, he had been there that day, perfectly alive and healthy – and happy. And he seemed perfectly, well, nice, too (even though Artemis Fowl Sr. _had _snarked his own father later…Draco felt bad for actually thinking that his father deserved it).

And what was it with the Weasleys and his father, anyway? All right, Ronald Weasley was a bit annoying sometimes, but he could be nice when he needed to be, too. And Percy Weasley was an arrogant fool who thought that he was the greatest wizard on earth since Merlin solely because he was a Prefect. And that girl (what was her name, anyway? Minny? Winnie?) was a bit odd. But why his father always called them scum...Draco didn't really know why. This entire time he just took for granted that they were scum, only he had never thought about the reasons. It seemed like the only excuse was that they were poor. Now and then, the topic of being "blood traitors" came up.

Those terms were holding less and less significance to Draco every single day.

Though the others hadn't known, Draco had been observing both the Weasley family that day, and they were so warm and loving and friendly, if somewhat dysfunctional, whereas his own was so formal and cold. Sure, the Malfoys never, ever, had arguments or disagreements, but that was because...well, there _was_ no room for argument or disagreement. Not against Lucius Malfoy.

He actually felt…jealous.

Which was silly. Draco had everything he needed in front of his face.

But still.

Even though Draco had won the Quidditch match against Harry Potter (the only thing that the other was actually exceptional at, for now), Lucius still was not pleased. In fact, his father had remarked, shortly after, "You _barely _won, Draco. I have provided you with a faster broom, and the other boy actually had a rogue Bludger – (here he paused to glare at poor Dobby, who had shrunk under his gaze) – flying at him, and you still _barely _managed to win."

But he was getting off topic. Draco snapped himself out of his daydream and pulled himself back together. His father wasn't going to talk, was he? Well, maybe different tactics were in order.

"However, the rumors have circulated at Hogwarts that _Fowl_ is actually the Heir of Slytherin," he said, switching his tone of conversation entirely. "Which is a complete and utter pile of rubbish, in my opinion. If I knew who the real Heir was, I'd help him." _…drown himself in a pool of acid._

Lucius seemed both amused and concerned at the same time. "Stay away from Fowl, Draco. He comes from a dangerous family and it would not do you well to associate with those lowly thieves."

Draco didn't bother mentioning that he was already associating with Artemis.

Lucius suddenly became very focused on his meal, and refused to say another word.

_Well, that was useless. Looks like Father is going to stubbornly keep his mouth shut. If only I could read minds._

They finished dinner in silence.

* * *

Later, he caught Dobby and whispered, "Are you _sure_ you can't tell me a thing about that Chamber of Secrets?"

The elf only shook his head pitifully and began to struggle. "Quiet, Dobby! Don't let my Father hear –"

"Master Lucius forbade Dobby – Dobby is sorry, Master Draco – Dobby cannot say!" the elf squeaked agitatedly, pulling his ears.

"Shhh! Listen, Dobby, you have to tell me at least something!" Suddenly, Draco had an spark of genius. "It's for Harry Potter – he's my friend!"

Dobby's eyes widened and dilated more than normal. "Harry – Harry Potter, sir?"

"Yes. Please, Dobby? Please? I'm sorry I was mean to you all those years before. If you tell me now, I'll make it up to you somehow; I'll even slip you those Brussels sprouts and let you out sometimes, please, Dobby?"

(Draco had never liked Brussels sprouts. They were his least favorite food, and to him they always tasted like those nasty health potions, no matter how finely or exquisitely his mother claimed they had been prepared. But for some reason, Dobby loved them with his entire heart and soul. Thus, Draco and Dobby had had a secret mutual relationship - Draco would secretly slip Brussels sprouts underneath the table during dinner whenever they had any, and Dobby would secretly eat them for him. Due to years of experience, Draco had long since managed to master the fine art of disposing of those devilish sprouts in an efficient and surreptitious way such that even his mother's sharp eagle eyes could not catch.)

Dobby was losing his composure. He managed to whisper into Draco's ear, "Master Lucius – diary – get rid of Professor Dumbledore – can't say more!" The elf immediately sprinted off and began banging his head into the wall.

"Dobby, what on earth is that racket?" Lucius Malfoy peered around the corridor.

"Oh, nothing, Father," Draco said nonchalantly. "I simply informed the elf that he has failed to clean my room properly, and, instead of being sensible and shutting his ears in the oven, which would have no doubt been more quiet, he instead decided to draw unneeded attention to himself in this way."

Lucius glared at Dobby. "Very well, then. Carry on, Dobby."

The elf smacked his head into the wall several more times before Lucius Malfoy turned and walked away, and kept punishing himself for several minutes after the Malfoy patriarch had left before he ceased and looked up at Draco with a meek, grateful wince. "Master Draco is kind to Dobby."

"No, thank _you_, Dobby."

As soon as Draco got into his room, he almost collapsed on the ground.

* * *

So his father had something to do with this.

Draco leaned back in the plush chair on the balcony outside his bedroom.

What Dobby had told him troubled his mind bitterly.

On one hand...what was going on was wrong. People were going to get killed. But Draco couldn't just rat out his father like that! No matter what had happened, Draco still owed his father a great deal. His father was responsible for everything the family had at this moment.

Yet thinking about it...if his father truly was responsible for these attacks...

Why would his father do something like that? His father always complained about Professor Dumbledore being tolerant towards Muggle-born students and such, but still...Petrifying and potentially killing off innocent students just to achieve his ends? That was low. He didn't even care about Theodore, and they had known Theodore and _his_ family since...well, since forever!

But this information...it was priceless. Draco just couldn't sit by and let the attacks go on like this! But how was he going to do this without ratting out his own father?

He _could_ just tell Artemis that Dobby had given him a hint about some sort of diary...but then Artemis was bound to figure out that if Dobby knew, then so did Lucius Malfoy.

What was he going to do?

He couldn't sleep.

He couldn't eat, either – he had lost his appetite.

Even the thought of tea made him feel sick.

So, instead, he went out and looked at the stars like his mother used to advise him to do when he couldn't sleep.

Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black, had been named after a stellar formation, as was tradition in her side of the family. She had taken the same tradition for him, too, naming after the constellation of the Dragon, rather than the Latin-based names that were of Malfoy tradition.

"Sometimes, Draco, darling," she had told him, "other people cannot help you rest your mind. The only person to resolve your internal conflict is yourself. Look up in the skies at night – I have named you after the Dragon, do you see? Your name is engraved up there, for all eternity, as long as the skies and space shall exist. Look at yourself in the heavens, child – you will guide your own way and forge your own path."

His mother was so sweet sometimes.

Most of the time, though, she was as cold and haughty like his father.

They expected him to behave in the same way.

His mother had been right – no one but himself could help him now.

So he looked at himself in the sky.

Draco.

But the constellation just sat there, unmoving. How was it supposed to help him?

His high opinion of his father, once so firmly rooted in his belief, was now crumbling.

Before going to school, before meeting Artemis, Draco had always seen firmly in one dimension – the one his father wanted him to see in. But now…

He was amazed at how narrow-minded he had been before.

Killing off Muggle-born wizards and witches – it made him sick. And pretty much all those considered "inferior," even the pureblood children who didn't behave the way that Lucius Malfoy believed that they should behave. A life was a life.

It was ability, not blood, that mattered. Or at least, the way it should have been.

It made his insides churn, that his father could do something like that – pushing everyone else aside in favor of his own silly grudges and goals.

But his father was a reasonable man.

He just needed Draco's help in seeing that…

* * *

**A/N: We'll return to Hogwarts in the next chapter. Hopefully it gives more insight into what Draco's going through at home. **

**Even though in the actual books he's a total jerk, I appreciate how he matures and changes so much…he's one of my favorite characters to analyze, next to Snape, because we actually change our perspective on him. He doesn't completely cross to the "good guys side," and he's still kind of a jerk, but considering the fact that pretty much everyone else stays either Bad Guys or Good Guys, that little change was a lot.  
Even Snape, who is the only one who crosses over completely, so to speak, is revealed to have been one of the good guys the entire time.  
**

**Here, though, it's quicker, thanks to Artemis. I can't help but think that if only Draco had grown up with some other family, like the Weasleys, he could have had so much more to his character.  
**


	11. One Step Closer

**I have returned...FROM THE DEAD!**

**Sheesh...it's been so long since I last updated, huh? So sorry about that; I know you're all furious. Again, I'm trying my best. The plot's already all written out, so I know exactly what direction my story is heading in. I just haven't had the time to even touch this thing in the past month or so. **

**My schedule was just too hectic. School and extracurricular activities took such a huge chunk out of my schedule that my free time was spent sleeping instead of working on this. I don't have the time to wind down just yet, but rest assured that I will finish this. I will be back to weekly updates by the end of May. Stay tuned.**

* * *

When winter break had ended, Draco had returned with news.

For some reason, Artemis did not feel happy at the confirmation of his suspicions.

He should have. He normally felt happy when any of his predictions were proven correct. Instead, he was worried.

The other had dutifully "betrayed" his own father in the name of the greater good. Artemis had to appreciate his friend's bravery – it took much courage to turn in one's parents in the name of moral character.

"Please don't judge me," Draco begged. "That's what Dobby told me – I swear I had nothing to do with this –"

"It's fine, Draco!" Blaise had said. "Now that we know why these attacks are going on…"

"Speaking of which, you two missed a quite substantial amount of information," Artemis intervened. Sparing Draco anymore awkwardness, he proceeded to inform them of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the diary, and the youngest Weasley. He decided to save the discovery of the link between Tom Riddle and Lord Voldemort for later.

"Who, Ronald?"

"No, his younger sister. Remember that day in Flourish and Blotts?"

Maybe he shouldn't have said that, because Draco had blanched and muttered, "Vividly."

* * *

"Make way for the Heir of Slytherin –" said Fred, or perhaps George –

"Yeah, seriously evil wizard coming through –" said George, or perhaps Fred –

As annoying and childish as he normally found the prankster twins, Artemis had to admit that he was very grateful for this bit of humor. It warmed him to know that Draco and Blaise were not the only ones who found the notion of him being the Heir of Slytherin laughable. Of course, the twins didn't know that he was hearing voices yet…and he certainly wouldn't tell them. They would probably make fun of him for being schizophrenic (if they knew what that even _was_...)

The only problem was that he really wasn't in the mood for jokes right now. The situation was very serious.

"Shut up, you two," Artemis muttered sourly. The Weasley twins simply laughed.

"It's the next Dark Lord going to have a cup of tea with his fanged serpent –"

Artemis sighed and pushed past them. "Listen, all humor aside, have you any idea where I can find your brother and his friends?"

They sported identical grins.

"Dearest Perce –" said one,

"– has _friends?_" finished the other.

(How they could perfectly and coherently link sentences like that was unnerving. Artemis supposed that it was mostly improvisation, however, unless they sat together at nights planning their speeches...maybe wizards born )

"I mean Ronald, the one who is friends with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Please, stop playing around, or I _will _lose my temper," Artemis said, his fuse already quite short.

Luckily, even Fred and George knew when to stop.

Fred, or maybe George, put up his hands pacifyingly. "Hey, listen Fowl –"

"– We were just joking. We know that you –"

"– are innocent. Besides, if it were you –"

" – you'd be smart enough not to get caught."

They were correct right there. Artemis smiled. The twins were more clever than their familial counterparts. He supposed that he had misjudged them at first, for, despite their regularly lighthearted, mischievous attitudes, they also showed much perceptiveness, intuition, and maybe some deviousness, even. It took great planning and creativity to perform a famous prank, which they had done on numerous occasions.

"As for ickle Ronniekins, he is currently in the library with his friends when we saw him last."

Artemis sighed. "Thank you."

"See you!" They flounced off.

_Let's hope they don't scream and run off when they see you,_ Artemis' pessimistic side thought.

_Not if you show them this first, _his other side responded.

* * *

As Artemis strode into the library, the few studious children who had been actually working over the holidays (and many others who were just socializing and distracting the studious ones) all glared at him and either began pointing and whispering quite loudly or packed their things and left.

He ignored them. There were more important people to talk to.

Like the Trio sitting in the corner. As soon as they saw him approaching, they stood and bristled. "Why are you here, Fowl?" Weasley hissed.

"I was looking for you. Your brothers quite helpfully directed me to this location." They still remained cautious and distant, however, and even passed the mood down the line to Blaise and Draco, both of whom had also been deemed guilty by association. For some reason, the two had not abandoned him yet – Artemis supposed that this was either the mark of a true friend, or a smart one. Either type was fine with him.

"Why, what have you found?" Granger asked. She, despite being the Muggle-born in the group, also seemed to be the most clear thinker and therefore the most open and forgiving towards him, something that Artemis was eternally grateful for. She had matured very much since her first year, transforming from an overly eager know-it-all into a level-headed friend. He wondered when Potter and Weasley had warmed up to her.

"Proof of my innocence," he stated. Looking around, he noticed that the entire library was now empty, save for him, the three Gryffindors, and Madam Pince, who was obliviously and happily stuck behind a mountain of parchment and book volumes. Apparently his mere presence had been intimidating enough to vacate a room within seconds. While it was by no means pleasant – Artemis just realized that having other people around him made him feel strangely secure – at least, on the bright side, he got more room to himself. During a discussion such as the one about to take place, privacy was quite necessary.

"What?" Potter asked.

"Meet Tom Marvolo Riddle, the real Heir of Slytherin," Artemis said, revealing the diary.

They stared blankly. Potter took the book and rifled through the pages. "There's nothing there…" he said.

"Artemis wouldn't take a blank book here just to mess with us, Harry," Granger said. "There may be nothing written, but there's probably information hidden in here, isn't that right?" Artemis immediately felt even more respect for her.

"Correct," he said. "Why don't you try writing in it and see what happens?" Artemis asked.

Weasley dipped a quill in ink and put a blot on the page. Almost immediately, the drops disappeared. "Wow! What happened?" He scrawled a messy, _"Hi."_

Immediately, words formed on the page. _"Hello. My name is Tom Riddle. Who are you?"_

"_Ronald Weasley." _

Artemis glared at him and snapped, "You shouldn't have done that."

"What? Why?"

"Look at it. It's a book that can think and write for itself. Never trust anything if you cannot see where it keeps its brain."

Ron looked sheepish. "Whatever," Artemis said. "It's too late now." The words kept appearing.

"_Hello, Ronald. How did you come across my diary?" _

"Make up something. Anything. Tell it that you stole the book from Harry or something," Artemis prodded. Messing with the disembodied mind of Tom Riddle was more fun than he thought.

"Okay," Weasley shrugged. He scrawled again, _"I stole you from my friend, Harry Potter."_

"_I see. So you know Harry Potter then?" _Artemis could tell that Riddle was trying to milk some more information out from a different source. Again, it was done with the same subtle, indirect type of conversation that seemed harmless but really was extremely manipulative, if used correctly.

"_Yeah. We're in the same year."_

"Why don't you ask Mr. Riddle what he 'knows' about the Chamber of Secrets?" Artemis suggested.

They did so, and immediately, the same lie began appearing on the paper. Everyone watched, transfixed, as the tale completed with the same ending.

_"I can show you, if you like. You don't have to take my word for it."_

"We already know that Hagrid was framed," Artemis said. "But would you like to see something even more frightening? Especially for you, Potter."

"What?" Harry asked, curiosity piqued. "I don't think anything would be any more frightening than what I saw last year with Quirrell...you know...".

Artemis chose not to comment on that as he showed them the parchment that he had solved the anagram on.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE – I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

The three stared at the parchment for a few seconds. Then, the desired effect took place as they soaked in the information and realized the true gravity of the concept. Their eyes widened in horror.

"This is not a coincidence – more like a deliberate name change," Artemis supplied.

"How did you even notice that?" Granger gasped.

"Because I am a genius," he responded bluntly.

"Modest, aren't you."

Artemis chose to ignore the biting sarcasm in that remark.

"So Voldemort, the crazy idiot who wants to off all of the Muggle-born people, is the Heir of Slytherin," Potter said. "Why am I not surprised?"

"But how would Tom Riddle be able to get into the Chamber and control the Basilisk?" Weasley asked. "This diary thing can't exactly walk around, hissing to things, can it?"

Artemis leaned in and whispered, "Possession. If this diary can think and speak for itself, chances are, it's as sentient as the ghosts. Ghosts are souls bound to earth – and so is schoolboy Voldemort's diary, most likely. If someone got too close to it, too emotionally attached, it may have the ability to take over his or her body and use it to do its bidding."

"I can't imagine Voldemort, of all people, going to school like any normal kid," Potter said.

"Everyone has humble beginnings. It's pretty sad, the way he turned out – model student, prefect, and everything. He could have done so much better than become some terrorist," Artemis said. "The current issue, however, is that his victim could be suffering from permanent damage from prolonged exposure to this thing. Even the source has been taken away, there could already be a foundation set in her mind."

"So, who's this victim?" Weasley asked. "Wait – how do you know it's a _she_?"

Artemis sighed. "You won't like it."

"What, who is it that it's so bad? Hermione?"

"Ronald!"

"Out of curiosity, Ronald, what is your younger sister's name?"

"Why do you ask?" Weasley snapped, turning red. "What's she got to do with this?"

"Funny, isn't it? I acquired this diary after running into her – she had dropped it."

"Ginny?" the three chorused, shocked.

"No way!" Weasley yelled. Thank goodness Madam Pince was not there – she would have had a fit; that boy was so loud sometimes. "Are you calling my family Death Eaters? How would she have gotten her hands on it?"

"Think," Artemis urged. "Think about it. When has she actually come into contact with someone rumored to be a Death Eater?"

"She doesn't associate with Slytherins!" Weasley protested. "Her friends are all good people!"

Artemis rolled his eyes at the generalization against his House, but decided that it would be imprudent to comment on that fact. "They do not necessarily have to be a friend, simply someone she has come in contact with, coincidentally or unintentionally."

Potter, surprisingly, was the first to remember. "In the bookstore – Flourish and Blotts! Mr. Malfoy stole her books!"

Artemis nodded. "I am certain that the house-elf that kept trying to send you home knew something about it as well."

They stared at him again, before conceding mutely.

"Hey, Artemis?" Granger called after him.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions and thinking that you were the Heir of Slytherin. You were right, and we were wrong."

The urge for a snide remark on how he was always right seemed to leave him for that moment. Instead, he said, "Apology accepted, Ms. Granger – Hermione."

"Say, can we borrow the diary? I want to see if I can't find out more about Voldemort." Potter said.

So. Harry was actually pretty decent at taking the initiative and future planning when the times called for it. Artemis assumed that he took his status as the Boy Who Lived more seriously than previously assumed. This year was definitely bringing new surprises – for both his knowledge of himself and the people he knew. Artemis wondered what else he was going to discover by the end of the year.

"Of course. Also, see if you can't find out the location of the chamber so that we can show the teachers where to seal it up - that way, if some other distant Heir of Slytherin comes back years later he or she won't be able to do anything. I can't do that because Tom Riddle already knows who I am and won't talk to me anymore," Artemis said. "Pretend that you agree with him and that you want to help continue his work: if you feed his ego, he'll be more likely to respond."

"Got it," said Harry.

"Be sure not to use your real name, though – it would be dangerous if Riddle somehow found about the role you would play in the future," Artemis warned. _And because I already used your name, and I think that Riddle would be able to detect changes in handwriting._

"Sure."

"And even if you somehow _do_ get possessed, we'll know what's going on and figure out how to follow you."

"Very funny, Artemis.

Artemis turned to leave.

"Hey, Artemis?"

He turned back around to face them.

"Thanks."

For some reason, Artemis felt _happy_ because of that one statement.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

* * *

"So, Potter's got it now?" Blaise asked.

"Let's hope he won't do anything stupid," Draco sniffed.

"Enough, you two," Artemis ordered. "I have seen to it that Potter will handle the object in a capable manner. In fact, it was his idea in the very beginning to milk any other information possible from the diary for our benefit. Since I am unable to communicate with it anymore, Harry and his friends will be the ones to find out where the Chamber of Secrets is."

"And what will happen once Potter finishes with that?" Blaise asked.

"Then," Artemis said, "We destroy it."

_And kill him._


	12. Lockhart's Torture Day

**I'm BACK!**

**Happy Zombie Jesus Day!**

**(Courtesy of Cyanide and Happiness)**

* * *

January had passed without much incident.

February was quiet as well.

Professor Sprout had informed the masses that her mandrakes were maturing, and pretty soon they would be ready for the potion to relieve the victims.

Artemis expected the news, or rather, the lack of it. After all, he and his...assistant investigators? Cohorts? Comrades?

_Fine_, they were his _friends..._for the sake of this ridiculous fanfiction.

"You know, I'll stop cooperating if you break the fourth wall one time too many."

But back to the point. Artemis expected the news, or rather, the lack of it. After all, he and his..._friends_...knew now who was supposed to be behind the attacks. And now that those in possession of the diary knew exactly what they were dealing with, they wouldn't carelessly stray into its realm of control, like the youngest Weasley child had.

Until they had more information, however, they could not report the diary just yet. It would lead to too much red tape. Dumbledore, as the headmaster, would be forced to report it to the Ministry, and Artemis wasn't sure that such a dangerous artifact should be turned over to the government to be poked and prodded by a bunch of incompetent morons.

In a bad case, the researchers in the Magical Artifacts department would damage it because they didn't know how to handle it, leaving the next few people in its chain of custody without anything to work with, whatsoever. Even worse, someone too naive could easily be possessed by the diary and end up exactly like the Weasley girl. Or the worst case - which could easily happen, given the level of corruption in the Ministry that Artemis was aware of - the diary could mysteriously "disappear" (into the hands of the powerful old families, _again_, such as a certain *cough* Lucius Malfoy *cough*) and labeled as a "closed case" to cover up the "accidental carelessness".

So, in this case, the wisest decision would be to allow only their small circle to be privy to the knowledge of the diary's existence until they had extracted all possible proof and information from it. Only after the evidence was great enough to be indisputable, would they turn it over to greater powers. That way, no one could turn a blind eye to the dangerous artifact or cover up its grave importance.

The general population, however, were still completely clueless. Most took the break from the attacks as a point of relief and returned to their daily routines, foolishly deciding that the trouble was over. Some wiser people were still keeping guard (mostly Slytherins), believing that the reprieve was only a calming point before an even bigger, more dangerous wave of attacks. Some people still suspected Artemis, although their numbers were less. Potter and Company had done their best to dispel the nasty rumors, and to their credit, they _were_ quite effective in doing so. The masses seemed more keen on listening to Potter than a bunch of Slytherins.

Unfortunately, the fact that he was somewhat off the hook meant that Hagrid had, once again, become the scapegoat.

It didn't help matters that there had been no more attacks since Hagrid was arrested. Actually, Hagrid had been arrested around the same time as the diary had been found, but Artemis certainly was not such an imbecile that he would broadcast to the world about "baby Voldie's diary," (Blaise had adopted that as the code name for the object, and had taken to calling it as such in public and private).

Lockhart, the conceited peacock, as usual, had begun boasting that it was really his work that had scared the monster of Slytherin off.

Artemis wanted to march up to him and hit him. Several times. On top of his well-conditioned, combed, and curled head. With Riddle's diary. Or, even better, with his thickest textbook (_Hogwarts, a History_). Or with every single, paper-wasting, four hundred page lie that Lockhart had penned himself.

It would certainly knock the man off his pedestal, and provide some great ironic entertainment as a result. Artemis was sure that at least Professor Snape would appreciate it, if no one else did.

But he didn't, because Artemis Fowl the Second was a perfectly well-mannered and composed individual.

"And, today, my dear children…"

Usually.

* * *

"What in the name of _Merlin_, is _that_?" Draco choked.

The entire Great Hall had been messily decorated with splashes and paper cutouts in various shades of pink. None of them were a good type of pink.

Artemis hated the color pink. It made him sick to his stomach. He brushed several lacy, Pepto-Bismol (more like Pepto-Dismal) colored hearts off the bench in front of him. They fluttered to the ground in a glittering rain. Over to the side, Blaise was "accidentally" grinding several of the fallen décor into the ground with the heel of his boot, and Draco was absent-mindedly shredding a cupid into confetti.

Many fellow members of Slytherin House were also doing the same thing. Many of the older girls, who were already in a committed relationship and had no interest in Lockhart's antics, as well as several more who had lost their faith in him after realizing his inability to teach properly, were helping "redecorate" their table. Slytherins and pink did not go well together.

"I don't know about you, but I think, just maybe, I know who's behind this," Blaise whispered. "Just maybe."

At that moment in time, the object of their disdain flounced to the front of the hall.

"Good morning, my dear students! Today is a very special day, as you can see – _Valentine's Day_!" he announced, to the dismay of the majority.

"Can you imagine anything more disgusting?" Blaise asked.

"Yes, actually. What if our wardrobes have been replaced as well?" Draco retorted. Blaise blanched.

"Don't even remind me."

"I'd like to see him set foot in the dungeons, that coward," Artemis hissed. "If he even _attempts _to put his nasty fingers on my personal belongings, he will get a lot more than he bargained for."

"– To celebrate this wonderful holiday," Lockhart continued, unaware of the slowly increasing dissent among the general population, "I have several of my lovely cupids delivering Valentines today!"

Out of nowhere, several gnomes (that had probably been paid to dress up in such atrocious costumes – diapers, fake wings, and plastic bows – how awful it must be for them!) with sacks full of love-letters, cards, and miscellaneous postage leapt out and began scurrying around, finding their first victims of the day.

"I imagine that some people will be very pleased today!" Lockhart said cheerfully, unaware of the ruckus he was quickly inciting. "Don't overdo it on the Love Potions and Entrancing Enchantments, eh?" he said roguishly to Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick, who were sitting on either side of him (rumor was that the teachers actually drew straws secretly to decide who would have to suffer by sitting next to Lockhart).

Poor Flitwick buried his head in his tiny hands, face beet red. The Potions Master, on the other hand, looked as if he would force-feed poison to anyone who even dared ask him for a Love Potion.

"Let's get out of here, before we are targeted, too," Blaise muttered.

"Strategical retreat," Artemis agreed, and the Slytherin boys slunk out of the Great Hall.

They were safe – for now.

* * *

"Where should we go? This entire day is going to be a joke. The teachers are all too busy hiding from those poor gnomes to be teaching properly," Blaise said.

"Should we visit Theodore? I know he won't respond or anything, but it's better than nothing," Draco said.

"Why not? We may be safe from Lockhart's 'faithful servants' that way. Madam Pomfrey would throw a fit if they disrupted her patients," Artemis said.

"I wish Theo was here to see all this," Blaise muttered. He stared outside of the door of the hospital wing, and several gnomes were chasing some unwilling boys down the corridor, to Madam Pomfrey's great vexation.

"I'd like to see Lockhart get one of those mortifying Valentines," Draco muttered.

"Are you kidding? He'd probably _enjoy_ them," Blaise sniffed.

"Unless they're from us," Artemis said. Bad idea. Blaise's eyes widened, and the evil smile came back. Artemis understood now how others felt when he used his vampire smile on them.

"You know…that's not a bad idea…"

"We _should_ send him a Valentine," Draco joined in.

"A very, very nice one."

"A gift from a mysterious admirer."

"Delivered…by Peeves!"

Artemis sighed. What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

"Professor Snape, may we borrow some pickled frog livers?" Blaise asked innocently.

"And Flobberworms –" added Draco.

"And live scarab beetles – " Blaise supplied.

"And basically as many of your nastiest potions ingredients possible," Draco finished.

Their alternating dialogue would have made Fred and George proud.

Professor Snape glared at them. Not even he had escaped the wrath of Lockhart's singing Valentines (mainly from a few braver and slightly more stupid students who were trying to wheedle out some higher grades from him, plus one from Lockhart himself). The morbidly pink slips of paper had all been turned to ash by now.

"Why?"

"Oh, no reason." Blaise smiled.

Artemis mouthed If anything happens, we know nothing.

Professor Snape smiled and nodded in understanding. "I don't see why not."

The look on Lockhart's face as his fingers began blistering while his hideous robes were staining was priceless.

He never found out who the perpetrator was. He wasn't smart enough. Even if he had his suspicions, none of the other teachers bothered to help. Snape, of course, acted coldly, as though he didn't care, McGonagall told him to quit whining, and Dumbledore, who wasn't even there, simply smiled with a twinkle in his eye.

* * *

"Hey, you!"

Artemis ducked his head down and began walking faster and faster.

"Get back here!" A grubby little dwarf in uniform – Lockhart's uniform – had grasped onto his robe.

"Let go," Artemis snarled.

"You've got mail!" _Oh, no._

"So I've presumed. Let go of me."

"It's a singing one – from a secret admirer." The dwarf was now kicking him in the shin and attempting to hold him back.

"I – don't – care." Artemis pointed his wand in the dwarf's face. The purpose was achieved; it froze.

"Listen, kid, just doing my job –"

"Listen, I know you hate this job, and I hate it as well, so please stop kicking me and we shall pretend this encounter never happened," he snapped. The dwarf still stood there. "Now leave, before I hex you, and as you can clearly judge from my face, you can probably tell that I will use the worst curse I can think of without any pause from my conscience, and believe me, I know many. It's _Valentine's Day_, and I think that the holiday spirit will be more lenient on troublemakers." Artemis grinned his vampire grin.

The dwarf, quite intelligently, could see the cold truth in his very displeased customer's eyes. Gulping, it threw the paper at Artemis and ran away before any more harm could come to it.

Artemis watched it go. He was not particularly fond of Valentine's Day in any way, and even less so because of Lockhart. These useless sheets of paper were not declarations of love; they were silly children's crushes that would probably change within a week. He was about to crumple the poem and throw it away, when he decided that he might as well read it, out of curiosity, just to see how absolutely awful it really was. Really! It wasn't as if he was flattered that someone was thinking about him or anything! Honestly!

(From the author: Our main character's completely horrified reaction as a result of this action has prompted me to graciously exclude the verse at his indirect request.)

"You should have showed me how to do that before that thing got to me," Harry said. Artemis cocked an eyebrow.

"He got one of the singing Valentines from a secret admirer, too," Hermione explained apologetically. "It wasn't exactly well-written or welcomed."

* * *

_Back in the dungeons, two weeks later_

"Hey, check this out," Blaise whispered at another one of their meetings. "I found this in the library – _Secrets of the Animagi_. Wouldn't it be cool, romping around as unregistered transformed wizards?" He grinned gleefully.

"It takes years to work, though," Draco pointed out.

"Well, if we start now, we might get it by fourth or fifth year," Artemis said. "Right now, though, we should finish up the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets, get Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid back, and just close the case while we wait for Theodore to wake up." For once, things seemed like they could go back to normal.

_Until you learn the whole truth about yourself, anyway…_

Even though that voice hadn't fully gone away. Once again, Artemis shut it into the box. At times like this, he couldn't allow stress or lassitude to cause him to let his guard down concerning his subconscious.

"What do you want to be, if you were one?" Blaise asked.

"A dragon," Draco answered immediately.

"Hah, that's expected."

"Well, it's better than – oh, I don't know – a ferret or something," the other responded indignantly.

"You don't get to choose, though – it's something to fit your personality," Artemis said.

"Then Blaise would be a monkey!" Draco jeered.

"Shut up! I'm way cooler than you –"

Artemis tuned out their bickering. The question was, what would _he _be?

* * *

**A/N: The Animagus stuff probably won't come into play until around fourth year or so but you can continually pop in suggestions about what form you think will fit their personalities the best. And please, no magical creatures. That's way too predictable and Mary-Sue/Gary-Stu. And no really unusual animals from a different era, either, because that really wouldn't be useful. I mean, a T-Rex romping around Hogwarts can't exactly contribute to the plotline, even though it's funny. **


	13. Discovery

**Spring break! Yaaay! No problems for a week!**

**Only my teachers are crazy and gave us AP practice tests to do...boo...**

**Oh, well. I'm going to upload this chapter first. Because I love you guys. Not in a creepy way. In a good way. **

**Speaking of good, my team won! Unfortunately, I can't tell you what or where or when or how because stalkers are everywhere and they're just waiting to eat you and that's not good. Just wanted to say that my team won and a bunch of stress is over until we get to nationals where the problems begin all over again. Bleh. Anyway, stalkers are bad. **

**And you know what else is bad? Oil spills! Because then all the poor whales and adorable seals and pretty fish will die and that's just sad. **

**And you know what makes me sad? Burnt cookies. Because cookie dough lumps go into the oven hoping to become an amazing cookie that everyone will want to admire and eat (because unlike most foods, cookies actually don't mind - and look forward to - being eaten. I don't know what's so enjoyable about being mushed to a pulp by some human being's mastication or being dissolved and digested by a multitude of chemicals and enzymes within a dark and cramped alimentary canal, but that's the way of life for cookies.) But burnt cookies just end up looking tiny and shriveled and sad and pitiful and dead and nobody likes them. Then all of their hopes and dreams for being the perfect cookie get crushed and they end up in a trash can with all of the other unwanted bits and pieces of food...  
**

**Speaking of food...**

**What was that?**

**I do _not_ have A.D.D.! Or A.D.H.D.! A.D.D. stands for Attention Deficit Disorder and A.D.H.D. stands for Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder! And I do _not_ have a deficit of attention! Or hyperactivity! Or disorders in any way, shape, or form! I'm just...different. Actually, I don't know. I've never been tested for A.D.D. or A.D.H.D. ...I just enjoy writing in a "stream of consciousness" style, like William Faulkner, only not as confusing because I actually use proper punctuation and capitalization. And no one calls Faulkner crazy. Well, a few people. But the point is, I try to use good grammar and it pains me how many fools in the fanfiction world just don't get that.**

**I'm not hyper! **

**Okay, maybe I am. I'm just excited for Spring Break.  
**

**But the point is...**

**[*exceeded introductory character and time limit*]**

**What? No, there isn't!**

**All right, I'll shut up. On to the story.**

* * *

"Rictumsempra!"

Artemis dodged the tickling charm that Blaise had sent at him. "Petrificus Totalis!"

"Finite Incantatem!" the other countered before the spell reached him. "Expel-"

"Incarcerous!"

Blaise, still in the middle of the Disarming Charm, did not have time to move out of the way. He was hit full in the chest with the Binding Spell and was immediately bound from head to toe with ropes.

"Expelliarmus," Artemis said, ending the duel.

"Excellent, boys," Professor Snape commented. "You've done well – all of you. Your anticipation, foresight, and creativity have improved greatly. However, your attacks are still rather predictable. I cannot blame you, since your magical knowledge is still elementary, but you should research and master more spells. Not only will you be at a great advantage during offense, but also prepared in defense in case your opponent tries the same thing. Using a large variety of spells, especially curses, will give you a greater chance of throwing your opponent off-guard. While many simple hexes or jinxes can be stopped with a simple _finite incantatem_, a great deal of others only have a separate countercurse that must be memorized - if your opponent is not familiar with that spell, they will not be able to defend themselves against it as properly."

The three nodded, soaking in the information.

"But sir, isn't nonverbal magic also possible?" Draco asked.

"Yes, but it's more of a higher-level skill. You'll learn that as a N.E.W.T. student."

"But it's always good to learn ahead!" Blaise argued.

Professor Snape sucked in his lip. "True. I will see what I can do to help – but later. For now, master your concentration and tactics – it will make things easier when necessary times come."

They nodded, and kept their dueling. This time, Artemis stepped out of the way and watched Draco and Blaise duel. They were well-matched, but eventually Draco won. It was no surprise, really, because he had had plenty of tutoring from both his father and Professor Snape at a young age.

After some more lecturing from Professor Snape, they finally finished their extra training and moved the desks and benches back into place for the next class. "You boys truly make teaching enjoyable – my career would be far easier if all of the blockheads I've had to teach were like you."

The boys smiled shyly.

"Can't you sign a permission slip that allows us to skip Defense Against the Dark Arts with Lockhart, Professor Snape?" Draco asked. "I know that you normally do not approve of ditching classes, but we hardly learn anything in there."

"I wouldn't exactly call it 'ditching classes,' " Blaise said, "when it's not even a 'class' at all. It's sitting in an auditorium, watching a baboon brandish a stick and role-play. Had it been a play or a film, I would have demanded my money back and sued."

"That was insulting…to baboons," Draco said. "You shouldn't insult your own kin, you cheeky monkey."

Blaise wrinkled his nose. "Hey!"

Professor Snape rolled his eyes. _Just when he had congratulated them on being good, mature students..._

"We could use the time to study here, instead," Artemis pushed, trying to get them back on track as he could clearly sense Professor Snape's annoyance at Draco and Blaise's somewhat immature (if funny) bickering (at least it wasn't as bad as some other students in the school). "The 2nd-year Slytherin timetables match up with your other free period."

"Yeah!" Blaise agreed. "And you could say that you need extra help cleaning the dungeons, or that you have offered a private tutoring class for advanced potions – Slytherin second-years only! Not that anyone other than Slytherins (maybe Granger) would show up anyway – because they're all _dunderheads_ who don't realize a good opportunity for more knowledge when they see one."

"Please? Do us a favor just this once and spare us the torture for the rest of the year," Draco pleaded.

"Plus, if Lockhart knew that _we_ were in here, with you," Artemis said slyly, "he'd probably leave us all alone."

"My father speaks very highly of you, Professor," Draco wheedled.

Professor Snape's resolve seemed to melt under the bombardment of persuasive arguments, solutions, compliments, (bribes), and flattery. And also, because he understood their plight, having hated Lockhart most of all out of all the teachers this year (though Professor McGonagall was a close second).

His lip curled ever so slightly. "I will see what I can do."

* * *

_A few days later_

Professor Snape had done well on his side of the bargain. He couldn't excuse the boys for every class, but he did his best to give them "detentions" (unrecorded, of course) during their "favorite class" (Lockhart's, obviously) and sometimes even went directly into the class to pull them out for a "short talk" that lasted the entire period.

It had been extremely funny on several occasions. Professor Snape would swoop in, robes billowing, like an overgrown bat, pretend to seem angry, intimidate (and even terrify) Lockhart, to the great amusement of many students, and thus save some of his Slytherins from an hour of agony. In response, Artemis, Draco, and Blaise would pack their things, acting sullen, but bubbling with glee on the inside.

There had been some accusations of favoritism, but they were dismissed, simply because a) Professor Snape had always been obvious in his preference to his House, anyway, and b) the boys would emerge looking disgruntled from the dungeons after the class had finished – a complete lie but great acting.

Some of the other Heads of House had taken to this example, and began to pull their pupils out of Lockhart's class as well – and for the most idiotic reasons, too. Professor Flitwick, who had caught on to the joke...er..._strategy_ fairly quickly, was soon using the most inane excuses to get his Ravenclaws out of Lockhart's class, like delivering notes or organizing papers. Professor Sprout actually took a Hufflepuff out of class because she "needed him to feed the Venomous Tentacula" – something that she normally wouldn't dream of trusting _any_ student to do properly.

And even the strict Professor McGonagall turned a blind eye to this gross abuse - well, not exactly abuse. They were just taking advantage of a self-absorbed egomaniac that didn't deserve any better. One great thing about Professor McGonagall was that whenever any annoying entity (*coughw* *cough*) was unwelcome in Hogwarts, she was always the unifying factor against it. Even though she was normally disciplined and fair, she knew how to make exceptions - and she always knew how to make exceptions at the perfectly right time, when everyone else was begging for one.

Lockhart, ever the ignoramus, hadn't bothered to notice that fact, of course. (Or maybe he just didn't know – either way, he was just as dumb as ever.)

Lockhart, ever the ignoramus, hadn't bothered to notice that his class was the only class that this had been happening, either.

* * *

Their session had just ended.

Draco and Blaise packed up their things and left. "Let's go visit Theo," Blaise suggested.

"Go ahead. I have to ask Professor Snape something," Artemis said.

The other two left, and Artemis and his Head of House were standing alone in the dungeons.

"Yes, Mr. Fowl?"

Artemis sucked in his breath. "Besides nonverbal magic, what about wandless magic?" Sure, he had _some _information from Ollivander, but he hoped that Professor Snape would be more detailed in his explanations. Ollivander had seemed a little scared in telling him more. Artemis hoped that maybe, he could wheedle more information out of Professor Snape.

Professor Snape paused. "It is very difficult to master, Artemis. Even many grown wizards have problems with it."

"That may be because they have never attempted it," Artemis pointed out. "If children were taught how to do other forms of magic at a young age, they could easily adapt and become accustomed to it as an adult. The magic of children is a lot more versatile, isn't it? I mean, everyone capable of performing magic manages to release _some_ form of magic accidentally before they even get a wand. I believe getting a wand actually makes you dependent on a tool to channel your magic through."

"The problem is, Mr. Fowl, most wizards aren't as capable as you or your friends are. I actually think that your year in general has the most talents we've ever had in one graduating class. Normally, we only get one or two every generation, and those special wizards are spaced out over a few years, not in one graduating class," Professor Snape pondered. "That's why wandless magic isn't made a portion of the standard curriculum. All wizards are capable of wandless magic at one point or another in their lives, but it is rare to find one in a group of one hundred who actually has enough energy control to wield it properly."

"Well, we should at least give all children a chance to find out if they're one of those capable while they are still young and can still develop the talent," Artemis argued. "Perhaps then we can improve the percentage - probably many of those who have lost the ability to perform wandless magic in adulthood could have been one of the few had they started early, while they were still in school. Who knows? Perhaps the percentage will not be as small as it currently seems. Maybe I could try."

"True. Do you attempt to do that, Artemis?" Professor Snape asked carefully.

Should he tell? He could trust Professor Snape, couldn't he? Well, he wouldn't give away the entire truth...he was certainly not going to lay out the story about his very first experience with wandless magic. However, Artemis realized quickly that if he didn't tell Professor Snape at least _something_, the man was not going to very willingly give him _anything_ in return. Artemis chose his words well. "I've actually already tried it, Professor. I haven't tried it again, though, because it exhausts me. I tried setting a paper on fire without a wand, and I got a splitting headache as a result."

The Potions Master's eyes widened. "You successfully performed an incendiary spell without a wand?"

"Yes. What is so important about that? If I remember correctly, last year both you and Professor Quirrell also performed some very high-level curses and countercurses on Potter's broom wandlessly."

Professor Snape nodded. "That is true. However, it took years and years of practice. I am curious as to why you began with fire, though. Fire is a rather destructive type of spell – while simple enough for many people with a wand, it is one of the more advanced spells wandlessly. I had trouble mastering it myself."

"Well, I was angry at a letter I had gotten…" Artemis said, deciding not to reveal the entire truth, still, "and there was a feeling inside of me that wanted to destroy it. I only managed to set a corner on fire, but my head hurt afterwards."

"That's very advanced, Artemis. And the exhaustion and headache is usually quite normal. I'm surprised you didn't begin coughing up blood on the spot," Professor Snape said worriedly.

Artemis was vividly forced to remember the very first time he had done it - the memory that he was trying so hard not to think about. Setting Karkaroff's minion in Russia on fire was not a pretty experience for both Artemis and that goon - though the thug really did deserve it. Still, Artemis felt ill at the memory; that experience had nearly killed him. But once again, it would be a bad idea to tell someone else that…it wasn't exactly legal…

"Perhaps it is because I've prepared myself for that in other aspects," Artemis said instead. "When I was a child, and did not have a wand yet, I was already pretty self-aware and could somewhat control my power, unlike the other children who were just unconsciously letting loose some pent-up energy. It wasn't anything important – just moving things and a bit of levitation. I suppose that helped, didn't it?" Artemis took Riddle's example, in this case – carefully revealing just a few things that would be sensible enough to not sound suspicious but not too much to be frightening.

"Perhaps. Perhaps," Professor Snape responded. Still, he pressed on. "In any event, that's what happened to me the first time I attempted fire spells wandlessly, and I was already an adult by then. It doesn't surprise me that you had enough mindpower and focus to channel your magic…but I _am_ surprised that you, as a second-year, would have enough magical energy to even fuel that type of spell without a wand in the first place. Even if you are powerful for your age…it seems odd that you would have so much magical energy. That is equivalent to a five-year-old who is already six feet tall. Of course, it is completely possible for a human to be six feet tall, just not at that age…that sort of thing, just like your magical reserves, seems physically improbable…I suppose you are, to put it simply, a rare case in more ways than one…You have a great deal to look forward to in your future, Mr. Fowl."

"I see," Artemis replied.

_This man is intelligent…though not entirely correct…after all, it is not your magical reserves that have fully developed, but _my _energy you are borrowing…_

What?

_But as I am a part of you, that shouldn't really matter…there's no time…_

* * *

_Later that month_

Nighttime. It was almost curfew.

They were sitting around Theodore's bed again, in light conversation. It was useless, but somehow comforting.

"Hey, Theo," Blaise said. "The Mandrakes are almost ready. Pretty soon you'll be good as new."

"Yeah, and you can join me in insulting Blaise about his Animagus form," Draco added.

Artemis stared pensively at the face of his friend, still frozen in an expression of awe. Out of the corner of his eye, Artemis noticed a tiny flash of white peeking out from the top of Theodore's blazer pocket. Upon closer inspection, that white flash was actually a slip of paper, with some messy writing on it. It was small and camouflaged easily with the rest of the pristinely clean hospital room. Artemis was not surprised that he had not seen it before, if he could have been able to notice the tiny detail at all – those other days, Theodore had been lying with the sheets pulled up to his chin.

However, Artemis was surprised that Theodore was carrying around stray notes. He usually was very organized and kept everything, like their lesson plans with Professor Snape, in notebooks, not on random slips of paper. And this slip of paper did not look like the normal yellowed cards that they got from teachers or staff when they had to be called somewhere.

Artemis reached over and slid the blanket down, then pulled the note out. Perhaps it would give them insight on why Theodore had been attacked, or at least what he was doing then.

On it, Theodore had written,

"_Moaning Myrtle – third tap on right."_

"What on earth does that mean?" Draco asked, looking over Artemis' shoulder and snatching the paper from his hands.

Artemis tried to think.

Theodore was showing an unusually good sense of foresight this year that had yet to be explained.

Theodore was a quiet sort of kid who didn't really like to speak up unless he was absolutely sure of himself.

Theodore had been found outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Petrified.

What if…

"Oh, _no_."

Apparently, his friends all had a decent sense of logical reasoning, for they realized exactly at the same time what their friend had been up to as well.

"That girl that Riddle said was killed. What if it was…"

"_Moaning Myrtle_?" They said together.

"Now that's priceless," Blaise said.

"Do you think we should tell the teachers right now?" Blaise asked. "I mean, this is all the proof we need…"

Suddenly, Potter came running up to them, flanked by Weasley and Granger. "Guys! I've lost the diary!"

Artemis whipped around. "_What_?" he gasped. _And he had TRUSTED Potter...he thought that they were supposed to have been SMARTER this year!_

"It wasn't _lost_, it was _stolen_!" Weasley corrected. "Remember? Your trunk was open and your things were all over the place!"

Artemis froze. This was not good. "Did you tell anyone else about the diary? At all?"

"No!" Potter said vehemently. "It was just between us – we didn't even talk about it; we were afraid someone would overhear us. And we were so close, too! I was pretending to be a pureblood extremist who supported the Heir of Slytherin, and I thought that Tom Riddle would finally open up about where the Chamber of Secrets was..."

Artemis straightened his back. At first he had been scared, but now, this wasn't so bad. If Potter was telling the truth, and he _was_ - Artemis could tell when a wears-his-heart-on-his-sleeve Gryffindor like Potter was lying from a kilometer away - then there was only one suspect. And if she was being controlled at this very moment, they could corner her and solve the great problem once and for all. "Well, that settles it. We know who to look for." He broke off into a run, and the others followed him.

"What do you mean?" Weasley asked. Sometimes that child really was dense.

"Who is the only other person who knows besides us? Obviously, it's someone insecure and afraid that her secret might be discovered," Artemis snapped. That got his attention.

"_Ginny_," Weasley moaned.

"So, we can just find her and make her give it back," Potter said.

"Where is she, anyway? Do you know where your sister usually hangs out, Ron?" Granger asked.

"She should be with her friends in the common –" Weasley suddenly stopped short.

"What's the matter, Ron?"

But Ronald didn't answer. He simply pointed at the wall and the horde of teachers crowded around in front of them.

HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER


	14. Open

**Thank you for being so patient everyone! I know it's been forever since I last updated, but AP season and nationals is finally over so I have a bit of a chance to breathe now. Nationals for what, I won't say, because you know how there's stalkers everywhere. I've already told you too much! SHHHH!**

**Unfortunately the next update might take a while because my school is going directly from APs into finals week, including mandatory final exam reviews and projects. :P **

**I promise that once June is out I'll try to get back to weekly updates. Sometimes it might have to be once every two weeks because I plan to take summer classes.**

**Anyway, here's a sorry excuse for a chapter that I managed to grind out while procrastinating my studies and pretending that I'm actually doing something school-related simultaneously underneath my parents' noses.**

* * *

"Boys, what are you doing out this late?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Professor, that isn't – that isn't –" Weasley stuttered.

"I'm afraid it is, Mr. Weasley…Ginny Weasley has been taken down into the Chamber of Secrets," the Deputy Headmistress shook her head sadly. "There is nothing we can do anymore – they'll close down the school tomorrow. Back to your dormitories, all of you."

The six gaped in shock. "But Professor, we – you – they _can't_!" Granger shrieked.

"They _can_, Ms. Granger, and they _will_ –"

"But where will we go if Hogwarts is closed?" Potter interrupted. "Hogwarts is my _home_, Professor McGonagall!"

The woman sighed. "There are many other great schools out there, Mr. Potter. They would be happy to take our students –"

"But – but –"

"Back to your dormitories, all of you."

But the children found their feet glued to the floor, unable to budge an inch.

"We know who did it, though," Blaise whispered to Artemis. "Can't we tell them?"

Artemis shook his head. "How? Our proof is in the diary – the one Ginny has taken down into the Chamber with her, most likely," he said. They had been so close, too! Things couldn't get any worse…

_But there is still a chance…though there is no time._

"Oh, hello, what did I miss?" Lockhart bounded cheerfully into the scene, completely unable to read the atmosphere. He was unaware of the solemn heaviness that hung around everyone, only knowing the emotions of one person – how surprisingly – himself.

Everyone stared at him, amazed that he could be so stupid even now. Suddenly, Professor Snape's lips curled into a thin sneer, and a cruel look flitted across his eyes. "Gilderoy," he hissed silkily. "Just the man we want to see. How nice of you to join us." Lockhart finally sobered up, and realized the dangerous tone in the Potions Master's voice. Or perhaps because Professor Snape never referred to him – or anyone – informally, on first-name terms, unless he was extremely pleased or extremely angry. And, any blatant fool, even one like Lockhart, could easily see that Professor Snape was anything _but _pleased.

"Oh, is it?" he said nervously, looking around at the various faces glaring at him.

Professor McGonagall caught on to Professor Snape's plan. For once, the two Heads of rival Houses were in agreement – "the enemy of my enemy is my friend," after all. "Indeed, Gilderoy," she said primly. "Here comes a chance at last to expose your true talents – finally, you can prove yourself in this 'unworthy' school." She smiled at him maliciously.

"Oh, really?" Lockhart swallowed. "What is it?"

McGonagall pointed to the writing on the wall – blood red, it was still wet and dripping, not unlike the writing they had seen on Halloween night. "A student has been taken down into the Chamber of Secrets. Being the amazing, talented wizard you are, I recall you saying that you have already solved the mystery and figured out where the Chamber was?"

The Slytherin boys, despite themselves, grinned (in a not-too-friendly manner). "RESPECT for McGonagall," Draco hissed. "My father would murder me if he heard me saying that."

"Oh, did I?" Lockhart stammered. "Why, yes – yes I did. Of course I know – of course."

"Then perhaps you would like to save us all," Flitwick squeaked. Even in his high voice, the tiny Charms professor still managed to sound angry and intimidating. "They will close the school, unless _you_ can do something about it." Pretty soon, all of the teachers were ganging up on Lockhart, throwing his own lines, lies, and tall tales back at him. They all desperately wanted to get rid of him – at last, here was their chance to do so, as it was Lockhart's chance to "prove himself."

"Of – of course," the fraud meekly replied, bending under the pressure. "Let me just – let me just prepare my things – and then I'll go."

The teachers and their group glared at the man's retreating form. "Good riddance," Professor Snape muttered. His black eyes swept over the remaining students – Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Blaise, and Artemis. "Back to your dormitories, please."

The rest of the teachers sighed resignedly and left. The students watched them go.

"What do we do now?" Weasley whispered hysterically, hyperventilating. "We can't just leave her there – that's my little sister they're talking about!"

"Merlin knows Lockhart's not going to do a thing," Blaise sniffed disdainfully. "Probably gone to pack his stuff and ditch us all."

"There's no time for this!" Potter yelled. He turned to Artemis, expectantly. "Don't you have any idea what to do?"

Artemis sighed, leaned against the dry part of the wall, and rubbed his temples. "I was hoping we would not have to resort to this," he said, "after we had the diary in our hands. But that is out of the question now. The only option left is to go into the heart of the Chamber of Secrets itself – and retrieve Ms. Weasley and the diary."

"We better be quick," Draco said. "The paint's still fresh – we might have a chance of saving your sister, Weasley."

"But we don't even know where the entrance to the Chamber _is_!" Granger wailed.

Artemis smirked. "You don't," he said, "But _we_ do."

* * *

"_What_?"

As expected, the three Gryffindors were shocked.

"How long have you known? Were you keeping it from us?" Weasley said, face turning red.

"Since…oh, I don't know, fifteen minutes ago," Artemis said. He showed them the paper that they had found on Theodore. "We should go now – I'll explain on the way."

Everyone broke off in a run to the girls' bathroom on the second floor.

"Wait – so Theodore Nott found this out?" Granger said. "I'm actually a bit surprised – he doesn't seem like the type."

"Life is full of surprises," Artemis said. "I assume that he had an idea, and decided to ask (pant) one of the _ghosts_ about the Chamber, since no one alive (pant) knows about it. Quite ingenious, I must say so myself." He had to exercise more often – he was really out of shape. They hadn't been running for that long, and he was already out of breath. Curses to anaerobic respiration and lactic acid fermentation.

"That explains why he had a sort of expectant look on his face," Draco said. "And to think I thought that he was just too dreamy to know the real danger."

"Well, he's definitely got us there," Weasley said, red hair falling in his face as he shook his head. "I never thought we'd be getting so much help from you guys against the Heir of _Slytherin_, of all cases."

"Hey, we're not _that_ bad," Blaise argued. "Besides, we Slytherins are smart enough to know what the greater good is. That entire spiel about Muggle-born witches and wizards being inferior is seriously outdated. Our focus now is keeping Hogwarts open – my mother would probably send me to Beauxbatons if this school closed, and everyone knows that the French are weenies."

Artemis could not help snickering at that last statement. But his good humor was dashed by a whispering nosie.

_There's no time…_

Artemis paled and ran faster.

* * *

"Well, here we are," Potter said. "Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"It was right in front of our faces this entire time, and we didn't even realize," Granger gasped. "Where's Myrtle?"

Right on cue, the ghostly form of a girl floated out. "Yes? What now? And why are _they_ in here? They're all _boys_! This is a _girls'_ bathroom!"

"Oh, believe me, it was completely unintentional," Weasley growled. Obviously, he wasn't pleased at meeting the whiny ghost again – her name was _Moaning_ Myrtle for a reason, after all.

"Just for clarification, Miss Myrtle," Artemis said in his sweetest, most persuasive voice. "Would you be so kind to confirm to us how you died? We truly do care." _Not about you, but how you died. _Not that he was going to tell her that.

Myrtle giggled. "It's so hard to find polite boys these days. You two should take a lesson from him," she reproached Potter and Weasley, who were standing around sheepishly. "Oh, it was _dreadful_," she said. "I was in here, in that very stall –" she pointed to the broken toilet that she haunted, "crying because Olive Hornby made fun of my glasses. And then I heard a male voice, so I went out to yell at him because boys weren't _supposed_ to go into the girls' bathrooms. And then – I don't know what happened next, but I saw a pair of big yellowish eyes – and then I was dead. And the boy had gone."

"Do you know who the boy was or what he was saying?"

Myrtle shrugged. "No. I didn't see him. I wasn't paying attention; I just knew that it was a boy. He wasn't exactly saying _words_, he was making these weird noises. I don't know what he was doing."

They all looked at each other. "Right, that does it."

"You know…you're not the first person to ask me this," Myrtle said. "Another boy was in here before Christmas break, and asked me the same things."

Ah. That would have been Theodore.

"After that, he went over there –" Myrtle pointed over to the taps by the sink. "I don't know where he went after that, though, because I left."

_Third tap on right._

Artemis went over to have a look. "Potter, come over here," he said. "Look on that tap – what do you see there?"

Potter's eyes widened. "It's a little snake!"

"Exactly. What do you think? Should we try it?"

"Okay. Open," Potter said.

"Nope. Definitely English," Weasley said.

Artemis stared at the little snake. He imagined it moving in the flickering candlelight.

He remembered the voices from the wall. He remembered all of those little times, as a child, when he had seen snakes and played with them while his parents weren't looking.

"_**Open,**_**"** he said, except that it wasn't really a word that one could say. Rather, it sounded like a hiss and a snarl – an eerie language, it would have sounded foreign to any other untrained ear. To Artemis, however, it sounded natural, and flowed over his tongue and lips gracefully and silkily, as if he had been born to speak this language.

There was a huge rumbling, and suddenly, the sink split open, revealing a large pipe leading downwards into the darkness.

* * *

The six twelve-year-olds peered into the entrance nervously. "Ladies first?" Draco said.

"Go on, then, Draco," Blaise retorted.

"Children, children," Granger rolled her eyes. "I'll go. Since I'm the Muggle-born here, it shouldn't make too much of a difference, should it?" And she jumped in and slid down the pipe.

"Me next!" Blaise exclaimed, although he sounded anything but cheerful. Stepping carefully into the dark entrance, he screamed, "That's disgusting – it's all slimy with sewage!" he whined.

"Who's the girl now?" Draco crowed. Artemis rolled his eyes. Even in such a grave situation, his friends were still so infantile and immature.

"Shut it, Draco," he snapped, and pushed Blaise down the pipe, whose screams followed his descent.

Then, Draco went, and after him, Weasley. Only he and Potter were left.

Artemis turned around. "Myrtle – if we don't come back up, it is your job to alert the teachers. Maybe we can finally avenge your death."

Myrtle grinned. She seemed pleased by the prospect. "If you die, you're welcome to share my toilet," she simpered.

Artemis made a face. "No, thanks." Swallowing, he stepped in. "Leave the entrance open, Potter," he instructed. "They'll be able to find us more easily."

And, reminiscent of the adventure for the Philosopher's Stone the previous year, Artemis descended into the darkness.

* * *

_There is still a chance. Go. Confront the evil thief, who stole your gift, and kill him…_

But Artemis was a hunter, not a killer.

_Yet those who hunt, must kill._

Not necessarily.

_You must kill him…_

He would worry about that when they got there.

_Kill him…kill him…kill…_

Artemis thought the voice in his head was sounding more and more like the basilisk each second.

_Compare me not to the worthless lapdog of that thief…you have not even seen the greatest of them yet…_

Artemis shut the voice into the box again.


	15. Hi There, Salazar

**HEY GUYS! I'm BACK!**

**Ok, so I'm sorry I didn't update earlier...but I have a really good excuse. Really! You wanna hear it? Sure you do!  
**

**See, I had the chapter plans written out and everything, but then a wild zephyr appeared and blew them away. I chased after them heroically, but it took me many moons to finally track them down. Meanwhile, I crossed wild rapids and sky-high mountains made by the gods, with only my crazy cat for company, on the search for my precious notes (because, clearly, doing that is much easier than just remembering them again). **

**I fought dragons and giant bloodsucking worms and diluted boiling lakes full of 6 molar sodium hydroxide with vinegar (just like that one CSI episode where they diluted an entire pool of that stuff with what? 5 gallons of vinegar? And they didn't even stir? Yet somehow the pH got down to neutral? NOT QUALITY!...I sound like my chem teacher.)**

**Ahem. Anyway...so I diluted the lake with tons of vinegar and tried to build a sailboat to cross it because it was like, a thousand miles wide. And I can't swim that far. So I tried to chop down a few trees, but it turns out that everything in the stupid forest was petrified (not like basilisk-petrified - like, legitimately petrified due to centuries of having underground lakes full of concentrated mineral solution as their only water source. The trees take up the water from their ridiculously long roots, and they use up the water, but the minerals get left behind and over time crystallize and solidify until the trees are just a big solid rocky mass.)**

**Thus, I had to use my amazing engineering skills to build a boat out of stone. I recruited a bunch of mud monsters that were living in the formerly 6 molar sodium hydroxide lake to be my minions and push the boat across for me since I didn't have any materials to make a sail with (plus there was no wind) and I was too lazy to row, being the classic American teenager.**

**Anyway, I was so close to my final destination, where a busy bee told me that my notes were hidden in a castle guarded by a giant monster called a Mao-zer. He's like a Bowzer, but Communist. So I made my way to the castle, but a black cat crossed my path, so I had to go the long way around. **

**The long way around involved a lot more climbing and hacking my way through dense tropical jungle. Then there was this swamp full of giant poisonous killer frogs. I had to transform all the killer frogs (they had sharp pointy teeth, too, despite the fact that frogs normally don't have teeth) into something less dangerous. **

**I was going for ladybugs, but I messed up the spell so they just became ladies, and they all wanted certain favors like those ladies in white dresses in that one castle named after a respiratory infection from that one British parody movie about a bunch of incompetent knights and a king who can't count to three trying to find a Holy something. So I had to go and fetch a Kakashi-sensei without a mask and he miraculously distracted them all long enough for me to cross the swamp. **

**I finally got into the castle and defeated the Mao-zer using a bunch of random exploding meatballs [Made In China]. (It's why I don't trust anything from that place. It either kills you or falls apart. If you've seen Disney's _Mulan_ you'd understand. I mean, that big evil Mongolian dude with the yellow eyes was just punching through the walls! I'm going, "Dude, guys, if your Emperor's Imperial Palace can fall apart that easily I'd hate to see your peasant huts.")**

**And after all of my trials and tribulations, I succeeded in my quest - only to find that my notes were in a different castle.**

**And something got in my eye.**

* * *

"Oof!" Artemis heard someone echo in front of him.

_Ah,_ he thought. _The bottlenecking effect._

He braced himself for the imminent collision. Sure enough, within seconds, his feet had rammed into someone's back.

"Ow! Who is that? Harry, is that you?" Weasley asked.

"No, but it will be," Artemis responded drily. Another few seconds went by before Artemis felt the bottom of someone's shoes ram into his own back. It was not a pleasant experience. Artemis bit his lips and winced. Gingerly he reached behind him and tried to move Potter's shoe away from the base of his spine, which had gone from tingling numbly to smarting painfully. It didn't help that Potter's shoes were pretty old and worn and therefore caked with mud from years past on top of the filth from the pipe.

"What's going on?" Potter asked. "Pass it on."

"There's a blockage down here!" Granger's voice echoed through the darkness. "Everyone light your wands – I can't see a thing."

There was a low murmur as everyone said, "Lumos." The tunnel filled with light. A dismayed moan came from up front – it was Draco. "My robes!" he whined.

Artemis looked down at himself – his pristine robes, too, were now completely filthy. Sliding down a plumbing duct several centuries old was a perfect way to coat oneself with a nice, thick layer of grime and moldy water. Artemis winced in disgust – no amount of fairy magic was going to save his Hogwarts uniform now.

"Aw, stuff it, Malfoy," Weasley snapped. "You can always get a new robe, but I can't ever get a new sister. My mum will tear my head off when she finds out what happened to Ginny."

The boy was right. Artemis felt the slightest pang of pity for Weasley. They had to hurry – Ginny Weasley could be dying.

"Stop arguing, you two," Granger snapped. "Am I going to have to babysit you two each time you bicker like a married couple?" That effectively shut the two rivals up. Artemis noted with glee that he would have to write that line down.

"Whatever. What's going on?" Potter asked.

"There's a giant thing down here stuck in the end of the pipe," Granger reported. "It's all shiny and scaly –"

"Dear Merlin, it's a giant snake skin!" Blaise yelled, horrified. "I never signed up for this – that thing's got to be fifty feet long, at least!"

"Then you can go back. Go on, climb back up. I don't know how, though," Artemis said.

"For heaven's sake, you lot act more like girls than I do," Granger snapped impatiently. "_Bombarda!_"

There was a small explosion as the spell propelled the giant snakeskin away from the pipe. Thankfully, nothing else collapsed, though that was probably because basilisk hide was very durable and probably managed to absorb all the shock.

He felt the line moving again. Thank whatever deity there was that he was not going to have to sit in the muck any longer. As he stepped out of the pipe, he saw the basilisk skin, completely unharmed by Hermione's spell (which was not a pleasant scene, witnessing firsthand that the monster would be completely resistant to whatever elementary spells they knew). Blaise definitely had not been exaggerating when he said that it was fifty feet long. Artemis felt somewhat dizzy – but they had to keep going if he was going to defeat Riddle.

"Everyone stay together and hold hands, even if you hate them," Granger ordered. "If we lose you, we're not coming back for you."

Gingerly, they all held on to one another. They were all covered in filth anyway so it wasn't as if it made a difference. Together, they navigated the dark, damp underground Chamber.

"Gee, Slytherin sure had a thing for creepy dungeons," Blaise commented, trying to smile and failing miserably.

What he said seemed quite true as they moved on. There were arches with moss hanging from them like icicles from a wintry rooftop. Almost every square centimeter of the cold stone walls was encrusted with nitre and blanketed in moss and lichens. If one did not walk carefully, one was almost certain to scrape up against a discarded bone or two – Artemis himself had accidentally stumbled over the skeleton of some small animal, possibly the remnants of one of the Basilisk's many meals, sending a portion of the crumbling skull skidding across the rock tiles.

The group listened to the eerie echo of the animal skull skip away from them in dread at what lay waiting for them at the end of the Chamber. The hairs on the back of Artemis' neck stood on end. He had no reason to be afraid; he knew exactly what was there, what they were heading towards. And yet, knowledge of the fact, anticipation of the future, did not help his already trembling nerves.

_That could be you, _he heard a voice in his head say as they passed the decaying remains of another victim to the Basilisk. _That could be you anytime._

* * *

Artemis was shivering. Though they were probably several miles underground (he had lost all sense of estimation in the darkness), it had little to do with the cold.

A soft pitter-patter of little feet sounded above them. There were more little squeaks and rustles.

Blaise lifted his wand, and reflected in the light were two small, black, beady eyes. They glistened menacingly.

"That'll be the rats," his voice trembled.

The little rodents were scurrying about in a frenzy, shuffling across the walls, as if they were warning their group to go back, to go back before it was too late.

"Not a nice omen," he heard Potter say.

While Artemis seriously doubted the credibility of Divination, he knew that what Potter said was right.

"We've defeated the odds before," he said firmly. "Just because every sign here says we're going to our doom doesn't mean that we will."

Weasley swallowed and nodded. "For Ginny," he said bravely.

"For Ginny," Potter and Granger repeated.

"For Theodore," the Slytherins said. Unconsciously, they all huddled and put their hands in the middle.

"For Hogwarts," they all chorused.

For the first time, they all smiled at each other.

"Great," Blaise said. "Now that we've had that little morale booster, let's keep going."

They walked in silence, their pledges still echoing around them.

* * *

For once, Artemis did not hear the mantra of "No time…no time…" echoing inside of his head. Just to be safe, he added a few locks to the box and threw away the keys.

It took forever (forgive the hyperbole - but relatively speaking, it _did _seem like an extremely long time - most likely because every second they remained in the corridor, their levels of paranoia increased exponentially). At last, however, the winding corridor ended, and they were stopped at a wall, glittering with green, jeweled serpents.

"That's friendly," Weasley said. "Slytherin had an obsessive thing for snakes, apparently."

Draco glared at him.

Artemis ignored them. Instead, he reached out and traced the emeralds with his fingers. They were cold.

Just like the blood of the serpents that they formed.

"If you want to back out now, do it," he snarled challengingly.

The others looked at him encouragingly. "We've made it this far; there's no going back," said Granger.

"Yeah. My sister's back there," Weasley seconded.

"And Riddle," Potter reminded them.

"We've got to keep going forward," Blaise nodded.

"Our goal is behind that door," Draco declared.

"We're all in this together, then," Artemis said. " 'All for one, and one for all.' "

"_The Three Musketeers_," Granger smiled, the only one with actual knowledge of Muggle literature.

"Six, in this case," Potter said.

Artemis smiled. Figures.

"All right, then," he said.

Pressing his palms against the wall, he recalled his gift.

_Our gift…use it well…it is in your blood…_

Suddenly, Artemis felt a surge of confidence, and for once was thankful for the presence in his mind.

"_**Open."**_

Upon his command, the wall trembled and opened.

"Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets," he said.

* * *

The serpent theme was more prominently displayed within the Chamber. Stone statues of snakes lined the hall.

Flickering torchlight illuminated the last Chamber. In the center, there was a large sculpture of a man.

His eyes gazed blankly, being made of earthly minerals, but the rest of the face had been crafted so meticulously that it formed the intense expression that made up for the lifeless stare. His long, wavy hair extended past his shoulders, merging with his ancient-looking beard and moustache in a hairstyle so similar to that of Professor Dumbledore.

The statue depicted the man with a large torso and long arms, but short legs, giving him the appearance of a rather large ape. His figure would have been somewhat laughable if he hadn't looked so wizened and forceful…and dark.

"By Salazar," he heard his friends breathe. "It's Salazar Slytherin!"

It truly was the Chamber of Secrets.

Weasley let out a frightened yelp, and staggered back, his normally rosy, freckled face drained of color.

Artemis followed his eyes – and stopped cold.

Lying at the base of the statue was a little girl, still in her school robes, with long, red hair the exact shade of her brother.

She was lying completely still.

"GINNY!" Weasley screamed, and ran to his sister's side.

"Oh my god!"

"Is she dead?"

"Calm yourself, Ronald!"

"I feel sick."

They all clamored and yelled, speaking in unison and out of turn, in both shock and anger.

Artemis breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. "Give her space," he ordered, and knelt beside her, pressing two fingers to her jugular.

_Please…please…don't let her be dead…_ he silently prayed. Funny; he had never believed in prayer before.

Bump. Bump. Bump.

He sighed in relief when he felt the girl's pulse. It was very faint and slow – but it was still there.

"She's still alive, Weasley – Ron," he said. "Don't worry. Let's find that diary and get out of here."

"Are you sure about that?" a new voice said.

They spun around.

In front of them stood a figure.

It was not a ghost; he was more solid than that, and yet he was not completely human, either, for his body was not solid enough.

_His deep brown hair was neatly styled, for someone who lived in the 1940's, anyway, and his even features, shapely nose, and strong jaw – they all blended perfectly well on his face. (He looked much like Artemis himself, as a matter of fact, in a completely humble manner.) No one would suspect such a model, well-behaved child of being a criminal._

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Artemis hissed. Except, it came out more like,

"_**Tom Marvolo Riddle**_**."**

The other boy smiled. Except, it looked more like, a cruel smirk.

"_**Yesss."**_


	16. Combat Pragmatism

**Hey guys! Sorry for the short chapter last time. I knew quite a few people weren't too happy about that because I made you wait super long for a sorry excuse for a chapter...so I just sat down and began cranking out words. ****Just to make it up to all of my awesome readers, because I love you all, and not in a creepy way. **

******I promise. **

******(When I first started using this site and wasn't used to the controls yet, I accidentally got lost in the Forbidden Forest of M-rated fiction once...and never again...the _summaries_ were disturbing enough as they were. Big whoops.)**

**Anyway, now that summer's here, my muse has a bit of breathing room at last...until summer classes start. I'm pushing myself to finish Book 2 as quickly as possible (since my school district is trying to shift the school year forward so that we start in early August and end in May :P).  
**

**So thank you for being patient, everyone, and I hope you enjoy this chapter (where we finally get to see some action).**

* * *

"You're the one who's been giving us so much trouble this year," Artemis stated blandly (in English, for the benefit of his companions). It was neither an accusation or a congratulation, simply a bland statement, as if anyone who hadn't realized this by now was a dunce.

"Yes. That's me," Riddle smiled. He twirled a wand in his hand – Artemis doubted that it was his. He stole a glance down at Ginny Weasley, who, as expected, did not have a wand with her.

Riddle mistook this gesture as one of worry and concern. (Of course, Artemis was not concerned – he rarely ever was concerned, and if anything _could_ concern him, it would definitely not be by the hands of _this_ imbecile). "You were correct – she is alive. But only just. And she won't be alive any longer."

"Oh? And why is that?" _Keep him talking. Distract him, while you get to the diary._

"I have been living from her energy," he said - well, _bragged_ - cruelly. "I have taken hold of her emotions, her secrets, her deepest, darkest fears. She is no more but a living shell, barely surviving on one thread of life. I grew stronger as she grew weaker; I became more solid as I fed off her trust."

Artemis smiled inwardly. Riddle thought he was so clever; people like him always had to boast about their great accomplishments and how they achieved them. Let him boast. It might be useful information later on. From what Riddle had told them, he was not completely living, and still depended on Ginny's life force in order to become solid. As Ginny Weasley was not yet dead, the energy transfer process was not yet complete, meaning whatever hooked them together was still fully necessary - and the only conduit possible was the diary.

They still had no idea what the diary was, but if Riddle kept talking, maybe they could get some clues.

In any event, it was crucial to destroy the diary, before Ginny was completely killed. Artemis wasn't sure if what Riddle had stolen from Ginny Weasley would return to her automatically once he was gone, but as attempting to find an alternate method to reverse the parasitic process would be too dangerous and time-consuming (and probably end up with all of them dead), plan #1 was the best option.

"She was a silly little girl, confiding into me with all her worries throughout the school year," Riddle continued maliciously. "How she hated having hand-me-down robes, how her family was poor, how her older brothers always _teased_ her, how she was afraid that the great Harry Potter would never like her or even pay attention to her!" Riddle paused to laugh.

_Hmmm..._ Artemis thought. _Evidently, he is just about as mentally unstable as the Voldemort we met last year looking for the Philosopher's Stone. However, he might prove more of a challenge because he has his own body, of sorts, now, and is no longer attached to the back of the head of a sub-par wizard like Quirrell. I don't know how powerful Lord Voldemort was when he was still plain old Tom Riddle, but we definitely cannot take him lightly, since we do know he was skilled enough to create something like the diary._

"I wrote back. I was kind, sympathetic, charming. She absolutely _loved_ me. '_Oh, Tom, you're so kind to me. You're like a friend I can carry around in my pocket,' _" he mocked.

"I had better things to do, of course, than listen to the foolish whining of a silly, insecure little girl. Imagine how glad I was when someone else picked me up. Harry Potter." He stared at Artemis.

Harry looked surprised, but Artemis winked at him. I'll distract him. Steal the diary and run for it, Artemis whispered out of the corner of his mouth. Draco and Harry both nodded and began creeping along the edge of the wall, around the chamber, while Riddle was facing Artemis.

"It's funny, though; she never mentioned that you were a Slytherin." Tom Riddle looked at him strangely.

"People don't mention a lot of things," Artemis said simply.

Riddle leered. "We are a lot alike, then. More alike than you think."

Artemis' insides churned at the thought (which was, though he didn't like to admit it, kind of true). He managed to keep his face stoic and his voice even, though, as he forced out a sarcastic, "That's nice."

"You could become quite powerful, you know. A hunger, a thirst to prove yourself, and ultimately, a great mind. Isn't that what the hat told you?"

_Yes, as a matter of fact. _"Sure. Like it tells any other Slytherin who isn't a mindless goon."

"True, true," Riddle laughed. "I should be solid in a few moments now."

"Go on," Artemis said condescendingly. "Tell us of your amazing stunts. How did you, presumably, take advantage of a defenseless child, abuse her, and molest her thoughts and soul? I should like to hear it. Pedophile."

Riddle glared. "Do not speak to me that way. I am the greatest wizard on earth!"

"Yes, Lord Voldemort, we hear you," Artemis said. "Your full name made it rather obvious." _Incite him. Make it look as if you were bored. If his reaction as an adult during the Philosopher's Stone incident, things will get rather interesting._

"Oh, really? You were smarter than I expected, then," Riddle sneered.

"It was pretty smart," Artemis goaded. "I bet that most people don't even know what anagrams are. Too bad your chosen code name happened to rhyme with 'Moldy Shorts.' "

Riddle grew red – or rather, his pale, translucent cheeks darkened. He pointed the wand at Artemis. "NO ONE MAKES A FOOL OF ME AND ESCAPES ALIVE!"

"Only if they are a fool," Artemis said.

Riddle seemed as if he was about to curse Artemis, when he noticed Draco inching toward the diary.

Artemis froze and inwardly cursed. _It seems as if Riddle wasn't as unstable or egocentric as I had originally anticipated._

"You're not getting anywhere," he hissed venomously. "Crucio."

Artemis' eyes grew wide. He had seen Karkaroff use that curse on his father before…

Draco's screams ripped through the Chamber.

Artemis wasted no time. Draco probably couldn't separate his mind from his body, and wasn't old enough to have the physical strength to resist the curse. If it went on any longer he would probably go mad from the pain.

"Confringo!" Artemis roared.

Riddle released his hold on the spell and ducked. The curse soared over his head and set the stone on the opposite wall aflame, before dissipating. His eyes flashed dangerously. In another moment he had flicked his wrist.

Artemis didn't know what the spell was, as it was nonverbal, but it didn't matter. You didn't have to be a genius to figure out that whatever that odd-colored flash of light zooming at you was, couldn't be friendly. Jumping to the side, Artemis tried another spell from his painfully limited second-year arsenal. "Petrificus Totalis!"

Riddle smirked, and with another flick of his wand, had no problem with his own counter and retaliation.

Clearly, their duel wasn't going to go anywhere – Riddle was just too much more experienced. Artemis was expending a serious amount of effort just to keep up with Riddle's movements, for despite his psychotic nature, he was still a genius with plenty of battle experience. The only comfort that came from this situation was that Artemis could still fight to a draw with Riddle, despite being so much younger. More than once this duel, Professor Snape had saved his life with those various tips the man had thrown at him throughout the year.

However, Artemis wasn't sure how long he could keep up the tie before his lack of endurance kicked in - a few more minutes, and he would be exhausted from dodging all of the killing curses Riddle was currently firing off.

It was time for some cheap tactics. Such as, all six of them ganging up on Riddle at once.

Draco, who had recovered from the curse, jumped back to his feet again and grabbed the diary. Unfortunately for him, Riddle was an amazing multitasker when it came to his belongings, and sent a hex at the other boy.

"Stop it!" Blaise yelled. He drew his wand and joined the fight, firing curses at Riddle's back, while Granger and Weasley got on his left and right, trying to outflank him. The real Potter ran over to Draco, and they started a lively game of catch with Riddle's diary.

Riddle could see that this was of no use. Though as Voldemort, he was probably more powerful than all six of them combined, six against one still wasn't a fair fight. Not to mention, he was not working at his full potential as his body was not completely solid yet, and the duel was seriously taking a toll on his weak energy supply and available time.

Then again, when had Artemis Fowl ever played fair? Use every unfair advantage to your advantage; every Slytherin worth his salt knew that.

"_**SPEAK TO ME, SLYTHERIN: GREATEST OF THE HOGWARTS FOUR,"**_he roared.

In the midst of the battle, the statue of Salazar Slytherin groaned and rumbled, and the jaw opened. Artemis knew what was going to happen next – and so did Potter, having understood Parseltongue.

"Everyone close your eyes!" he yelled.

"_**My sweet, I present to you fresh meat tonight," **_Riddle hissed. _**"Kill them all!"**_

The basilisk lunged. Artemis, once again, called his gift and hissed in return, _**"I am not the one you seek – he is who enslaves you!"**_

_Show that thief that the original will always be the greatest…show him…and kill him…_

Riddle laughed. "Nice try. But it only responds to its true master!"

Artemis smirked. "Luckily, then, that we look and sound alike." Riddle may have trained the serpent to obey his voice, but definitely not his bloodline. Artemis didn't know how much Riddle knew about basic science, but reptilian blood obviously was not compatible with mammalian blood in many ways. Thus the basilisk had no biological or genetic affinity to Riddle and only followed the commands out of habit, as one would train a dog. And mimicking Riddle's voice was not at all difficult.

_It is truly unfortunate that he knows how to use this gift._

Artemis bit his lip and shoved the voice back into the box once again. He didn't know how it kept escaping. Before, the voice would surface every time he was stressed or scared. But now that he was consciously locking it up…he knew the inside of his own mind pretty well…

…yet seeing as it kept talking about his heritage…maybe it was a piece of him, connected to some newly unlocked DNA that genetically carried knowledge about his ancestors. Like how certain birds could genetically pass on knowledge of nest-building. Maybe it was every time he tried to use Parseltongue…that had to be it. Artemis didn't really know what else to think. Besides, that hypothesis sounded reasonable enough, right?... Accessing that power meant that he had to draw from a genetic subconscious…and he was therefore opening the box, unknowingly, every single time.

Well, that was inconvenient. On one hand, Parseltongue was useful, but on the other hand, he really didn't like interacting with that piece of himself for some strange reason.

It pretty much unnerved him.

So Artemis resolved to only use Parseltongue when absolutely necessary (which was really a good thing, because he didn't want too many people knowing about him…) If he did need to use it, he could just lock the voice away again right after. Plain and simple.

(That would work for a while…but sometime in the future, he would have to face himself directly.)

The other glared, and threw another curse, which Artemis dodged with great difficulty. Riddle hissed, _**"I am your only master, and I repeat: kill them all!"**_

The basilisk paused, confused. Hissing angrily, it lunged randomly at the real Potter.

Shielding his eyes, Artemis pointed his wand in the vicinity of the great serpent, hoped that he was aiming close enough, and yelled, "OBSCURO!"

The effect was immediate. A large, black blindfold appeared around the Basilisk's eyes. Snarling in fury, it waved its enormous tail around, thrashing.

"Too bad it doesn't have any hands," Artemis taunted, "a fact which you seem unable to appreciate."

Riddle roared in anger, losing his cool composure. He looked more like the crazy snake-faced figure on the back of Quirrell's head, now, than the handsome face that had been just a few minutes ago. With a roar, he unleashed yet another spell. The circular wave of energy surrounded him and began expanding outwards, like a ripple in a pond, only much faster and more deadly.

"DUCK!" Granger screamed, and just in time, too. A second later and they all would have been toast. They were all lucky to have escaped simply with burnt ends of hair. Artemis frowned, as he realized Blaise and Draco would probably be complaining about it later.

But there was no time for that now. They still had to defeat Riddle and the basilisk, which was currently chasing Harry and Draco around. Its clumsiness due to the blindfold would have been hilarious at any other time, but the fact that it still had a mouthful of poisonous teeth and the capability to crush anyone that got in its way (it probably weighed as much as a blue whale) kind of ruined that. Draco and Harry, thankfully, were smart enough to remember that their spells were too weak to penetrate the basilisk's scaly armor, and were currently aiming anything and everything they could think of at the inside of serpent's open mouth.

Evidently, trying to fire spells accurately was difficult when said target was moving and writhing all over the place while you were simultaneously trying to _run away_ from it.

Artemis turned back to his current fight against Riddle and aimed a curse at Riddle's feet. Blaise noticed this and went for Riddle's head. Riddle, unable to jump and duck at the same time, had to step aside, only for Weasley and Granger to be ready with their own spells. Anyone else would have been subdued, but Riddle didn't grow up to be the world's most dangerous Dark Wizard for nothing. After all, battles were a combination of maneuver and slaughter, both of which were indirectly related. Riddle, having been outsmarted and outnumbered, had no room to maneuver.

So he resorted to slaughter.

Riddle slashed his arm through the air again, and sent another wave of attacks at his four young opponents. As they were forced to duck flat against the cold, stone floor again (Artemis was pretty sure that a wizard of Riddle's caliber wouldn't resort to using simple spells that could easily be deflected with a mere _Protego_) Riddle moved in for the kill.

"_Avada Ked-"_

Artemis was prepared to roll out of the way when, out of nowhere, a beautiful song echoed through the chamber – like a mix between a mournful wail and a symphonious melody. Artemis felt, strangely, strengthened by it. Magic was always full of surprises.

A bird, the size of a swan, cloaked in elegant plumage the color of bright, hot flames (a stark contrast to the gloomy surroundings of Slytherin's chambers) spread its wings and went for a steep dive towards the Basilisk. Something black was being carried in its talons.

Its appearance was so sudden that even Riddle had to stop halfway through the Killing Curse in amazement.

"I don't believe it!" Granger yelled. "It's Fawkes and the Sorting Hat!"

Ah, Dumbledore's phoenix. But why the Sorting Hat?

The phoenix dropped the tattered bag of cloth in front of Harry. He caught it, bewildered, and then, before anyone could regain their senses, had unsheathed a beautiful, glittering sword, with rubies embedded in the hilt.

_Now, where did that come from_? Magic truly was a funny thing. In any event, it was more useful that pulling a rabbit out of a hat. More like pulling Excalibur from a stone and anvil in a churchyard.

The great Basilisk lunged, jaws unhinged, and Harry reacted just as quickly. He held the sword out in front of him like a spear, and thrust it forward – straight into the still-open mouth of the Basilisk. As he retracted the blade, the reptilian emperor screamed in fury, and swung its massive head wildly, blood streaming profusely from the wound.

It could have been a lucky shot, or perhaps Potter truly did know what he was doing. In any event, the direct angle and position of the stab would have, according to Artemis' calculations, gone straight up through the roof of the beast's mouth, past the skull, and into the brain, providing that this serpent had the same anatomical proportions as normal snakes.

Fairies had healing powers.

Phoenixes had healing powers.

Basilisks did not.

Unfortunately for it – and luckily for them.

"What have you done?" Riddle screamed.

"Saved the world," Artemis said simply. "You know what to do!" he yelled at his friends. "Kill the diary!"

Riddle may have been "immortal", but the diary, the chain tethering him to the realm of the living, the tube that allowed him to feed off the life source of another – was not. Boy-Voldemort whipped around, just in time to see his precious diary sail through the air to Harry Potter. With a spectacular catch (or course; he _was _a Quidditch Seeker), the boy nodded and threw the diary into the mouth of the thrashing Basilisk.

Sweet, sweet irony. Riddle's own monster, his most faithful servant, who had hurt so many others because of him, had ultimately been the final factor in getting rid of him for good.

"NOOO!" he wailed. Turning on Artemis, he shrieked, "I'll kill you for this!"

"Can't kill someone when you're dead!" Artemis jeered. He wished that he was able to kill Riddle later – watching his explosive overreactions was extremely entertaining.

The Basilisk closed its many enormous fangs on the little, leather-bound book.

As soon as the venomous tip had pierced the cover, several things happened at once.

Something black and tarry, like a viscous mix of ink and blood, began leaking from the book. The liquid ran down the fang where it had been impaled, and mixed with the serpent blood dribbling down the Basilisk's jaw. Black and red swirled together in a lethal-looking combination.

Riddle dropped Ginny's wand and clawed at his chest, for a large hole had appeared in his torso in the exact position where the book had been pierced.

He was fading. The almost solid apparition was now little more than a thin portrait, torn and slashed through the middle.

The basilisk screeched again, and opened its mouth, lunging blindly. Thank goodness his friends had the good sense to get out of the way of its gargantuan head, which could have killed them by the sheer crushing weight, even if they hadn't come in contact with the deadly fangs.

It swung one more time, and collapsed to the ground. A great rumble sounded throughout the chamber as the Basilisk hit the ground (Artemis swore that those cracks in the floor hadn't been there before).

Its tail waved once more, and it emitted a mournful sound, like a cross between a threatening hiss and the low groan of mortal terror – it was not a groan of pain or grief, but the type of groan that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. It was a gurgle that a mortal man would make when he knows that the Fates will cut his string of life, and accepts it simply because he cannot do much else to prevent it, and yet fears the other side because it is unknown and alien to him.

And then it was still.

Absolutely still.

"_**KILL THEM!" **_Riddle howled desperately, his greatest pet, or rather, tool, terminated. More holes – empty, gaping holes – were appearing all over his body, sapping the energy and force out of him. His face contorted into a malicious grimace as the pain of corporeal dissolution ripped through him. _**"KILL THEM ALL!"**_

"Too late," Artemis said simply.

Tom Riddle sent Artemis one last look of absolute loathing.

And he faded into nothingness.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, there's a lot of allusions to other books. See if you can find them all.**


	17. Explanations

**This chapter will be a bit short. I just came back from boot camp today...and right after a shower, this was the first place I beelined to. Feel special. :)**

* * *

"That was melodramatic," Blaise breathed.

The phoenix cawed; the slow, beautiful note crept its way into their hearts.

"We might as well get out of here now before they send a search party after us," Potter said.

"I'm pretty sure they already have," Hermione pointed out. "We've been down here for at least an hour. That's long enough for them to notice we've gone missing. And if they walk past this bathroom, it's pretty obvious to see where we went. We didn't close that secret entrance, did we?"

"It doesn't matter," Blaise cut in. "We're still alive. I'm pretty sure that will make up for whatever other trouble we could have gotten into. I mean, Hogwarts is the only magical school in Britain and the best one in Europe and possibly the world. Imagine how disastrous it would be if it had to be shut down. We literally just saved both Dumbledore and Fudge's sorry behinds."

Potter gave a dry chuckle. "Great job, by the way, on that duel with Riddle - that was pretty cool."

"Well, you finished him off," Weasley pointed out, "so I suppose that counts too."

Artemis walked over to the Basilisk. "We might want to clean that," Artemis pointed out. "I do not think that a bloodied sword would please the original owner very much." He pulled the diary off the fang where it was still impaled - or what remained of it, anyway. There was a large hole in the middle, blackened around the edges as if it had been burned, where the Basilisk had bitten it by accident.

Ah, sweet irony. Riddle's fanged serpent had been the one to cause his demise. It had unwittingly turned upon him, after all, and assisted in the destruction of the diary - the one thing tethering Riddle to the living realm.

"Gee, you think?" Blaise asked. But Potter - Harry - ignored him and tried his best to wipe the sword clean on the scaly hide of the Basilisk. It didn't work very well, and rusty brown-red streaks of dried blood were still clinging to the blade where the rough basilisk scales had failed to make contact, but at least it was no longer dripping.

At that moment, a quiet whimpering came from the corner of the floor, where Ginny Weasley had been lying since they all had confronted Riddle. Amazingly, she was not injured, even when the basilisk was chaotically slithering all over the place while Riddle was randomly firing off spells.

"Ginny!" Weasley yelled. He rushed over to his sister's side. The unconscious girl was slowly stirring.

Blinking, she looked at her brother, and then burst into tears. "Oh, Ronald, I'm so sorry! I don't know what happened - I kept talking to Riddle, and then he was being really nice to me only eventually I didn't trust him because weird things kept happening, like one time when Hagrid's chickens were strangled and I woke up with paint and feathers all down my front except that it wasn't paint and then one time I lost the diary and saw that you guys had it so I stole it back and then Riddle came out of the diary - " she babbled.

"Shhh, shhh, Ginny, it's okay," Hermione soothed. "We're all here now, and Riddle's gone. We got rid of him for good."

"Hopefully," Artemis sniffed, holding the battered book by the corner of the front cover between his thumb and forefinger, as if it was an infected substance that he was trying to avoid. "He, as a memory, may be gone, but his living counterpart is unfortunately still romping around somewhere."

Ginny squeaked in fright, and curled up against her brother's side. "What's _he_ doing here?" Obviously, she had had bad experiences with older Slytherin males, and Artemis' presence didn't help much.

"He was helping us get rid of Riddle, Gin," Weasley said. "It was actually pretty bloody cool - he's not so bad, for a Slytherin."

"Gee, thanks, Ronald," Artemis rolled his eyes. " 'For a Slytherin' - the age-old prejudice is still there, hmmm?"

Weasley grinned sheepishly. "Well, you can't blame me. You guys are always standing around and smirking to each other. Of course she'd think you're one of the bad guys."

"Okay, okay, so we _do_ stand around smirking to one another a lot," Blaise interjected, "but that was because we were just figuring out how to mess with that idiot Lockhart!"

Draco was laughing.

Ginny squeaked again. She turned to look at Draco. "You - you're the boy from the bookstore!"

"Yeah. That was me," Draco said with an awkward grin. "Sorry about that."

"My god, is a _Malfoy_ actually saying sorry?" Blaise made a mock swoon. "The world is ending!"

"Shut up, you."

Ginny burst into tears again. "I'm so sorry!" she wailed. "I found it in one of my textbooks - I swear, I didn't know what it was; I thought it was a gift! Now I'll be expelled from Hogwarts and what'll mummy and daddy say!"

"Calm down, Ginny," Granger said. "You won't be expelled - it was all an accident; they'll understand. You're just a first year - you didn't have control over your body or anything, and whatever happened was Riddle's fault. You didn't know what was going on or what you were doing, and you couldn't have stopped him since you didn't know any better. Riddle would have found a way to get to you sooner or later. We'll all stand for you."

Ginny sniffed and looked at them all rather warily. "You - you sure?"

"Yeah. We'll show them the diary and they'll see that it's true."

She finally stopped crying, and said, "Okay."

"What do we do with the Basilisk?" Potter asked. "Should we just leave it here to rot or actually show them all?"

They regarded the dead serpent, still blindfolded, with absolute loathing. "Leave it here," Artemis said. "I don't want to see its ugly eyes ever again."

Walking back to the entrance, they were faced with a slight dilemma. "Wait - how are we going to get back up out of here?"

"Fawkes can carry us," Potter said. "Phoenixes can hold an infinite amount of weight, can't they? We can all grab onto his tail and he'll pull us out."

"Be sure you don't pull any of his feathers out," Draco said sarcastically. "He won't like that."

Potter grabbed onto Fawkes' tail first. "I won't. Here, guys, grab onto my hand, and don't let go."

Ginny shyly extended her hand, and he pulled her up. Weasley was next, and he stole a glance at the Slytherins. "I am _not _holding hands with _Malfoy_."

Granger rolled her eyes. "For heaven's sake, Ronald, you are _so _immature. Here," and she grabbed onto Weasley. "I'm a Muggle-born, and I'm not afraid to hold hands with Slytherins, no matter how slimy they are," she teased, eyeing their robes, which were still covered in filth from the pipe.

"Whoa there, what was that?" Blaise gasped in mock hurt.

"Excuse me, but I don't think you look any better, mud-robes!" Draco retorted at the same time.

"Will you two please stop behaving like children and just hold on already so we can get out of here?" Artemis asked, taking Granger's hand to spare his fellows the trouble of extra arguments. "I suggest you all board the train before it departs - or does no one like me?" he prodded.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Fine then, Fowl."

"Back to the last-name basis, aren't we?"

"It's easier to make fun of your last name."

"Artemis is a girls' name, though," Draco said slyly.

Blaise's eyes widened. "It _is_?"

Not _that _joke again. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Artemis did not swear, except for these specially reserved cases.

"Of course it is, you dunce," Draco said, grinning. "It's the name of one of the Greek goddesses, isn't that right?"

Blaise grinned ear to ear. "Oh, I am going to have so much fun now - "

Artemis gave Blaise his coldest death glare, accompanied with his best vampire smile. "Try it. I just dare you. And I'll definitely see to it that my hands get really tired on the way up and just maybe - maybe let go by _accident._"

Blaise gulped. "Maybe not. It was all a joke - just for fun. I won't mention it anymore - promise."

"See to it that you don't."

"Oi, will you lot stop bickering so we can get a move on here?" Ronald snapped.

The three rolled their eyes, and Blaise snorted as he grabbed onto Artemis' hand. Draco clung onto Blaise.

"All right, children, hold onto your hats, because we're in for a ride," Hermione said, smiling.

Fawkes cawed happily in response and flapped his wings. There was a whoosh of air rushing past Artemis' ears, and suddenly, he felt absolutely weightless, as if he was in outer space, with no gravity holding him down...magic was amazing; it allowed the impossible to happen, against the laws of science...But he was getting ahead of himself there.

They rushed past the dark corridors, past the slimy pipes, until they were met with the light of the bathroom again. All seven of them collapsed onto the immaculately tiled floor, splashing it with their soiled, slimy clothes.

"Filch will have a fit," Blaise muttered.

"Don't remind me about that ignoramus; I could care less right now," Artemis said, still somewhat bitter that the man had accused him of Riddle's crimes in the first place.

Moaning Myrtle floated out at them, and looked at their exhausted, dirty, and rumpled, but ultimately living faces. "You're not dead yet," she whined.

"You sound disappointed, Myrtle," Draco said.

* * *

"Let's take her up to the headmaster's office," Potter said. "They'll probably be wondering - "

The door slammed open, and at the head was a plump, red-haired matron - Mrs. Weasley. Her eyes red and her cheeks stained; obviously she had been crying. Sobbing her heart out at the loss of her only daughter, most likely. Upon seeing their group, however, she went red, and then launched herself at them, latching herself onto her daughter, and began crying again. Mr. Weasley - Artemis still recognized him from the bookstore - looked haggard and twice as old as he actually was. Upon seeing the teary scene before him, he paled, and then, too, joined the sobbing mess that was his wife.

"Oh, _Ginny_!" the mother wailed. "However did you save her?"

"That is what I would like to like to know," said an old voice.

They all looked up. "Professor Dumbledore!" Potter said gladly.

"I suppose your suspension has been revoked, Professor?" Artemis said politely. "I am glad. I _would _shake your hand, but..." he gestured to his filthy robes.

The headmaster's eyes twinkled. "Indeed, Mr. Fowl. I suppose you should all come in for a talk - we have much explaining to do."

They followed him in, and told the entire story - almost.

They included the writing on the wall on Halloween night; the voices in the corridors; their secret hideout and research in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom; how the Slytherin boys had asked their parents about the background of the Chamber; how Granger had reasoned that Slytherin's monster was a Basilisk; how they had looked up the expulsion records and learned from direct questioning of Hagrid what really happened; how Artemis managed to deem Tom Riddle the real perpetrator; how Theodore Nott had discovered the location of the Chamber; and how they ultimately defeated Riddle and the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets and freed Ginny.

They avoided the parts about the diary.

Artemis left most of the explaining to his friends, except for the parts that involved him and Parseltongue. That was when he interrupted, and said that it had been Harry's doing.

"How did Riddle manage to possess Ginny in the first place?" Dumbledore asked.

They sighed, and gave in, telling him about the diary. Dumbledore seemed slightly concerned, but then the smile was back on his face, along with his twinkling eyes. He finally leaned back, satisfied. "Well, that is an amazing story. I think that each of you should receive one hundred points each for your bravery."

They all grinned at each other.

"As for you, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, young Ginevra here has been through a quite traumatic experience. I think the best course of action for her, right now, is a warm, comfortable bed in the infirmary and a cup of hot chocolate. You may go with her, if you wish."

The Weasleys complied.

Draco stayed behind. "Professor, can you try to keep my involvement...secret?"

Dumbledore stared at him, and asked innocently, "What involvement?"

* * *

"Mr. Fowl and Mr. Potter, please stay. As for the rest of you, off to bed, and get yourselves cleaned up. Mr. Fowl, may I see that diary?"

The others trudged off to bed. Artemis reluctantly handed the book over.

"Professor, how did I get that sword out of the hat?" Potter asked.

The man explained that only true loyalty could call a phoenix, and that only true bravery allowed him to find the sword of Gryffindor.

* * *

Finally, only Artemis remained. "Sir."

"Yes, Artemis?"

"What do you think this is, Professor?" he asked softly, gesturing to the diary.

Professor Dumbledore simply shook his head gravely. "I do not know."


	18. The End and the Beginning

**And here's the conclusion you've all been waiting for. Yaaay...  
**

**Be warned, it skips around a lot (which is why I've added line breaks for all of you) because hey - it's the end of the story, there's really no room for action left, and by now you're all probably bored and just want to know what happens, all the flowers and fluff and stuff aside. Also, I'm lazy and I want to get to publishing Book Three, if you counted _Summer of Ice _as a spinoff story, or Four if you counted it as part of the main sequence.**

**(First chapter is almost done, so stay tuned.)**

**Anyway, I would appreciate some constructive criticism, and basically how the entire series is progressing so far. If you can't think of anything to say, I totally don't mind - you've all been kind and supportive (I honestly don't remember any trolls or flames that everyone claims are everywhere on here) enough throughout the book, sticking with me even through the long breaks when I was really busy. **

* * *

_The next day_

"You know who Tom Riddle is, don't you, Professor?" Artemis said. He had come back for a visit to the Headmaster.

The headmaster leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I am afraid so."

Artemis sighed. "In the Chamber, during that battle, I pretended that I was Harry Potter instead."

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"It struck me how much all three of us are alike."

"It is your choices, not your personality, that determine your destiny, Artemis," the Headmaster said. "You have shown great bravery and character, going down into the Chamber to help your friends against all odds. Harry, too, will realize that eventually. Your amazing intellect keeps you ahead of everyone else – I will ask that you allow him to find out on his own."

"I don't want to end up like Riddle," Artemis confessed. "I don't even know what his aims are - it's absolutely ridiculous. What does he think he can achieve as Voldemort - a psychopathic madman trying to cleanse the gene pool?"

Professor Dumbledore sighed. "He wants to rule the world, Artemis. He wants to make himself omnipotent for all eternity, and in his quest, lost sight of reality."

Artemis remembered his conversation with the fairies from the summer. "I don't want to rule the world," he said softly. "I've decided that it's more trouble than it's worth. Imagine having to take care of billions of people and their silly problems. Whenever something goes wrong, they'd blame me. Eventually, so many bad things will happen consecutively they'd just want to get rid of me, and someone will figure out how to overthrow me."

"That would be a wise decision."

"The funny thing is, though...he mentioned that he grew up in a Muggle orphanage. He obviously has some wizarding lineage, because he's the Heir of Slytherin, but how did he end up there?"

"He was a half-blood, Artemis," Dumbledore explained. "His father was a Muggle and his mother a witch. I do not know much about his past, besides that he was from an orphanage in London - his mother had died giving birth to him there."

"London during the 1940's - he would have experienced the Blitz during World War II," Artemis pointed out. "That must be one of the reasons why he hated Muggles so much. He told me, in the diary, that he felt insignificant there."

"Indeed. We should look into his psychology more in order to understand how to defeat him."

"And Potter will ultimately have to defeat him."

"That is correct."

"I suppose I am officially fighting against him now, am I not?" Artemis asked. "If he can manifest himself in a diary like this, he probably has other ways to come back, too. He'll ruin my potential - and that of the wizarding world in general."

"I am afraid you are as correct as ever."

They were silent.

Professor Dumbledore finally stood and pushed back his chair. "Well, I have matters to attend to, Artemis. The world will want to know what has happened."

Artemis nodded, and he was left alone.

* * *

Looking around the Headmaster's office, he saw Fawkes, the phoenix, and the Sorting Hat. It was uncanny, how seemingly insignificant things could very well be lifesavers. Like a symbol, of some sort, for the future.

He walked over to the shelf. Artemis tried to reminisce the first night he had arrived at the school, when he had first placed the Sorting Hat on his head. Picking it up, he decided that it wouldn't hurt to try it on one more time.

"_Hello, hat."_

"_Artemis Fowl. We meet again."_

"_That is correct."_

"_I suppose you have unanswered questions about my predictions for you the previous year, correct?" _Yes, as usual.

"_That 'gift' that you told me about. It was Parseltongue, wasn't it?"_

"_I am afraid so. It is one thing that sets you apart…one thing that puts you on the pedestal with the rest of the great wizards in this generation…one thing that will involve you in their great conflict…one thing that you have discovered this year. As you can see, it has opened new opportunities for you…but also great danger. It puts before you, your future. Enjoy your time here while it lasts." _What was that supposed to mean? It was as if the world enjoyed placing mysterious, foreboding predictions on his head.

"_The great mind that you were talking about, fifty years ago. I assume that was Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort," _he responded.

"_Unfortunately. Terrible things happen when prodigies go mad. Driven by their own arrogance and power."_

"_I have no desire for that…Actually, I don't know what I want. I like knowledge, and gold, but it doesn't claim me as much anymore. It's interesting, yes, but not exactly…striking."_

"_I can see into your mind…I know what you have already done, my child – your accomplishments, and your crimes as well. I know what your future could hold, but your choices will ultimately make your decision. It is up to you, to create this world or destroy it."_

"_What a thing to say to a twelve-year-old."_

"_Indeed. Despite the distances you have already gone, you still have far to go. I give you this knowledge now, so you have plenty of time to think and choose your path."_

Choose his path. He knew where he was going to go.

* * *

_In the Slytherin dungeons_

"Mr. Fowl, Mr. Zabini, and Mr. Malfoy. May I have a word with you?"

Uh-oh.

* * *

Professor Snape did not look very pleased. He swept into the room, cloak billowing, and ushered them all into his private office. As soon as the door had shut, he exploded.

"What, on EARTH, were you thinking when you rushed into that Chamber – all of you! Losing your heads like Gryffindors! I believe we have already had that conversation last year, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Fowl, and Mr. Zabini, I would expect you to know better!"

The boys hung their heads. "Curiosity?" Artemis tried.

"NO AMOUNT OF CURIOSITY IS WORTH RISKING YOUR LIFE!" Professor Snape roared.

"But we _didn't _die…" Blaise protested.

Professor Snape cut him off. "I do not care if you didn't die, you could have! Dumb luck only runs so far!"

"There was some planning…" Artemis pointed out. "It wasn't exactly all dumb luck…"

"What purpose did you even have? A Gryffindor trying to save his sister, I can understand, but you three!" Professor Snape fumed, his breaths heavy.

"We were after the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle," Artemis said. "Does that name sound familiar?"

Their Professor stopped short in his rant and paled. "What?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Artemis said, deciding that Professor Snape was trustworthy enough in this case, "also commonly known as Lord Voldemort. He had a diary, from his days at school – but the Headmaster, I assume, has already told you that."

Professor Snape sighed and rubbed his head. "I will never understand you children."

Artemis continued. "Professor Dumbledore did not know the answer to this, but what do you think that diary is? It claimed that it was a mere memory, but memories cannot possess and sap the life out of people."

Professor Snape shook his head. He repeated Professor Dumbledore's same exact words.

"I don't know."

Funny, how much hate Artemis had for those three words that formed one sentence.

* * *

For some reason, Artemis felt that he was not telling the entire truth. But the man's dark eyes betrayed nothing.

That would be another mystery, then.

Lockhart had been sacked, both _de facto _and _de jure_. The night that the children had ventured into the Chamber and rescued Ginny Weasley, the coward had packed his bags and fled, shamed. Good riddance. He would be better off in a cottage in the middle of nowhere.

For the rest of the year, Professor Dumbledore took over their classes. He was a kind, understanding, and rather amusing teacher. His lessons were helpful and interesting, though reasonably challenging – which was more than one could say for their past two teachers.

"Draco, remind me, why did your dad want to oust him, anyway?" Blaise asked.

Draco only shrugged. "He's a bit…extreme in his beliefs, but he's a good man!"

Lucius Malfoy had been dismissed from the Board of Governors. He still held a great deal of authority in the Ministry of Magic, though – word had gotten out that he had actually threatened the other eleven Governors to sign the paper that allowed the ousting of Professor Dumbledore.

"That diary belonged to kid Moldy-Shorts, Draco. How would he have gotten his hands on it?" Blaise pushed.

"I don't know! We didn't know that he was that until a long time after! My dad probably didn't know what it was and wanted to get rid of it, that's all," Draco protested meekly.

"Oh, yeah? Well –" But Artemis shushed Blaise before the interrogation could proceed.

"Leave it. He's in denial. We won't judge you on something you didn't do, Draco. You're still our friend. But when the time comes, and I know it will come, you will have to choose, and show your true loyalties," Artemis said sharply.

The other boy only nodded.

* * *

The Mandrake juice had been administered, and eventually all the victims of the Basilisk had woken up. Each had the same story as Myrtle – a pair of large, yellow eyes, before everything went black. They had woken up, quite confused, and shocked that the end of the year was already near.

It was like a long, dreamless sleep, from which they had just had their awakenings.

The first thing that Theodore had said after he had been released from his catatonic state was, "Did you guys get it?"

They all smiled at him. "Yes, we did. Absolute genius, on your part."

He grinned. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But you guys were all so busy. I decided to ask one of the ghosts, and I thought, what if the girl who was killed was Myrtle? I asked her, and the things made sense, so I poked around in her bathroom a little more just to confirm my suspicions. Sure enough, there was a little snake on the tap in the bathroom."

"Slytherin must have been a big pervert, building his Chamber of Secrets in a _girls' _bathroom," Blaise remarked.

"I don't think so. Bathrooms were not invented until long afterwards – they probably built the new structure around the foundations, not knowing what was hidden underneath," Artemis pointed out.

Blaise pouted. "All right, then. Killjoy."

Out of the corner of his eye, Artemis noticed a little metallic glint from underneath the sheets. "Theodore, what's that?"

Theodore turned his head. "What? Oh, that? It's just a little medallion. I've had it since I was a kid. I just keep it around me, for fun, you know? I mean, I'm too old to believe in lucky charms and stuff like that but I thought it was kind of cool. I found it on a trip to Greece with my dad when I was younger."

Artemis observed it carefully. It was a simple ornament, really. There were no intricate designs – just a plain, dark-colored silver plate, about the size of a Galleon. On one side of the medallion, a square had been carved into the metal, with the opposite corners connected to form an "X". The only odd thing about the medallion was that it looked very old, yet there was no tarnish on the surface.

_That…is MINE!_

Artemis gasped and dropped the medallion. Theodore, Blaise, and Draco all looked at him in confusion.

"Artemis…are you okay?"

"Yes…" Artemis replied, though his voice seemed distant. "Yes, I'm fine."

The voice did not appear again.

* * *

To the dismay of the general population, the final examinations were still taking place.

"Our Headmaster is back, the mystery has been solved, and so our school will return to its usual order and purpose – to teach," Professor McGonagall announced, to several loud groans.

Artemis, of course, breezed through them with very little difficulty. Actually, despite Lockhart's appallingly atrocious teaching skills, most of their year had passed, thanks to the last-minute scraping that Professor Dumbledore had provided for them. Those that didn't…well, they wouldn't have passed anyway, even _with_ a good teacher around.

"Now that's some good teaching."

* * *

There were rumors and gossip, of course, explaining how the Chamber of Secrets mystery was finally closed, but the Headmaster had done a much better job keeping the real story and those involved private compared to last year. All versions involved Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger, of course – but the involvement of the Slytherins was sketchy, if nonexistent, something that they were all glad for.

Fame was a two-headed monster.

The train ride home was quite peaceful; it was a welcome change to their exciting year. Except for the fact that Neville Longbottom had lost his toad yet again, and had come running into their compartment, wailing like a rusted lever, that is.

"Don't worry about your dad, Draco," Theodore said. "We'll still be your friend."

"Yeah, and then we can hope that he doesn't mess with us again," Blaise snorted.

Draco stared out the window morosely. "Sure."

There was an awkward pause, before Artemis decided to change the subject. "Are we ever going to finish the Animagus project? Somehow, I don't think that Professor Snape would approve."

"We can try the preliminary steps at home," Theodore pointed out. "They don't require magic."

"What about when we return to school?" Artemis asked.

"We could make a secret base…somewhere…"

The discussion was eventually dropped, and they returned to the question of what they had planned for the summer for the rest of the ride.

They disembarked at Platform 9 ¾.

Their parents were waiting for them.

At first glance, Mr. Nott was seemingly the complete opposite of his son – tall, well-built, and cold; however, in personality, one could see where Theodore had come from. He was not embarrassed to run up to his son and embrace him in a crushing hug, crying.

Blaise's mother, a tall, dark beauty, had observed the scenery around her in mild interest, her long eyelashes fluttering casually. They left immediately afterwards.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were emotionless as they picked up their son and headed away. One could not tell what the man was thinking, or what he had in store for his son's future.

Angeline and Artemis Fowl, Sr. welcomed their son with open arms and a warm smile. They, too, headed home.

* * *

_Back in Ireland_

Artemis had been introduced to the method of travel commonly known as Side-Along Apparition. It was not comfortable; the feeling of being squeezed through a tube was something that he never wanted to experience again.

"You'll get used to it after a while."

Artemis decided that he'd wait until he was of age before trying again.

"By the way…Father. You know about the entire Chamber of Secrets fiasco that occurred this year?"

His father froze. "Yes, Artemis?"

"I apologize for disobeying you and getting involved."

Artemis Sr. paled. "You didn't…"

"I am good at keeping secrets and forcing others to keep secrets, Father. Just like you, right?"

Artemis Sr. ran a hand through his graying hair and sunk into a cushion.

"You know, don't you?" he asked.

"Indeed. I believe you have much explaining to do."

Artemis Sr. stared at him calculatingly. Then, the man stood, and straightened his back proudly.

"I suppose I couldn't keep it from you forever."

"I am a child prodigy, Father. I find out _everything_."

Artemis Sr. gave him a cold glare, one that Artemis had been so used to giving to others. He matched it defiantly.

"Then you must keep everything you find out a secret. I suppose I shall have to teach you the code of our family."

Artemis looked at his father curiously. A code for the family?

"Your training starts now. This summer."

Artemis nodded.

**_"Rule number one,"_**his father hissed. Artemis' eyes widened. **_"Never say anything."_**

Artemis grinned his vampire grinned and nodded.

This was going to be a fun summer.

* * *

**END YEAR TWO**


End file.
